% 


PR 

4371 
AI 


ml' 


^C^t'li: 


0L->  C 


•yisl 


f^^i 


m 


'Hi 


'M!^ 


Xo.  LXYIII 
FRENCH'S  STANDARD    DRAMA. 


WEENER. 


^    (Tragebn, 


IX      FIVE      ACTS 


BY    LORD    BYROX. 


fVJTH  THE  STAGE  BUSLXESS,  CAST  OF  CHARACTERS, 
COSTUMES,  RELATIVE  POSITIOXS,  E'IC. 


XEW-YOIIK  : 
SAMUEL    F  TvE  N  C  H, 

12a  AASSAi;-SiUEE'r. 

^^^*^^'  12^  CENTS. 


UNIVEHSITY  OF  CALIFORNl 
SANTA  BARBARA 


EDITORIAL    INTRODUCTION. 

■Weenee  is  one  of  that  series  of  plays  which  Byron  wrote  in  proud  citfl- 
ance  of  the  conventional  rules  of  modern  dramatic  composition,  and  with 
an  avowed  scorn  of  Managers  and  Players,  and  yet  it  is  now  incorporated 
into  the  Acting  Drama,  where  it  will  long  continue  to  be  estimated  as  a 
classical  and  standard  production. 

The  London  Stage  was  indebted  to  the  fine  taste  and  consummate  pow- 
ers of  Mr.Macready  for  the  first  representation  of  Werner,  although  it  was 
first  acted  in  this  country  on  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Barry's  Benefit  at  the 
Park  Theatre,  iu  the  season  of  1826,  who  sustained  the  part  of  the  hero. 

The  unprecedented  success  which  attended  the  production  of  Werner  by 
Mr.  Jtacready,  mainly  attributed,  however,  to  his  exquisitely  beautiful  per- 
sonation of  the  leading  character,  has  induced  several  actors  to  assume 
the  part,  with  modified  degrees  of  success,  and  the  play  has  thus  become 
a  stock  piece  on  the  Stage,  and  we  have  therefore  been  induced  to  give  it 
a  place  in  our  collection  of  Standard  Dramatic  productions. 

In  this  country  Mr.  James  Wallack,  Jr.,  has  acquired  a  well  merited 
ceiebrity  by  his  very  able  personification  of  the  part. 

We  have  been  favored  with  a  copy,  which  we  have  reason  to  believe  is  a 
faithful  transcript  of  the  usually  acted  version.  The  reader,  familiar  only 
with  BjTon's  original,  will  find  numerous  alterations  and  curtailments  in 
Ihe  text  we  publish.  The  spirit  of  the  original  is,  however,  admirably  pre- 
served, and  the  whole  adaptation  evinces  the  taste  of  a  consummate  judge 
of  dramatic  effect. 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that  the  Public  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Macready  for  this 
valuable  acquisition  to  the  Acting  Drama.  As  we  have  not  obtained  our 
copy  through  the  medium  of  this  distinguished  tragedian,  we  cannot  vouch 
for  its  being  the  identical  adaptation  he  uses  ;  although  we  are  warranted 
in  believing  that  it  differs  very  slightly  from  the  version  played  by  Mr. 
JIacready. 


IT  EDITOniAL     IKTRODUCTION. 

Of  the  merits  of  tlie  play,  little  need  be  said — It  is  undoubtedly  the  best 
of  Byion's  dramatic  efforts.  The  poetry  is  nervous,  finished,  and  lofty.  It 
abounds  in  those  pictures  of  gloomy  passion  which  Byron  seen  cd  to  de- 
light in  portraj'ing,  and  the  characters  are  but  so  many  illustrations  of  his 
power  of  diving  into  the  depths  of  the  human  heart,  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
posing the  latent  evils,  sufferings,  and  crimes,  which  are  there  engeii- 
dered. 

Lord  Byron  borrowed  the  entire  plot  of  Werner  from  Miss  Lee's  "  Can- 
terbury Tales,"  and  the  noble  author  has  not  disdained  to  avail  himself  of 
materials  for  his  story  alone,  but  in  several  instances,  he  has  even  copied 
Miss  Lee's  thoughts  and  language,  which  he  has  simply  ad.apted  and  im 
proved  to  suit  his  purpose.  The  celebrated  speech  of  IVcrncr  to  Ulric,  in 
the  third  act,  after  committing  the  robbery,  which  is  justly  considered  one 
of  the  most  powerfully  wrong  passages  in  the  whole  range  of  the  modern 
drama,  is  a  specimen  of  the  noble  anthor's  talent  for  adaption,  and  is  in- 
teresting as  a  remarkable  instanc«  of  literary  plagiarism.  The  passage,  as 
it  stands  in  the  play,  read  thus  : 

"  Werkeb.     Ulric,  before  you  dare  despise  yoar  father. 
Learn  to  divine  and  judge  his  actions.     Young, 
Rash,  new  to  life,  and  reared  in  luxury's  lap, 
I  sit  for  you  to  measure  passion's  force 
And  misery's  temptation  !     Wait — not  long, 
It  cometh  like  the  night,  and  quickly— Wait! 
Wait  till,  like  me.  your  hopes  are  blighted-till 
Sorrow  and  shame  are  handmaids  of  your  cabin  ; 
Famine  and  poverty  your  guests  at  table  ,• 
Despair  your  bedfellow— then  rise,  but  not 
From  sleep,  and  judge  !    Should  that  day  e'er  arrive, 
Should  you  see  then  the  serpent,  who  hath  coiled 
Himself  around  all  that  is  dear  and  noble 
Of  you  and  yours,  lie  slumbering  in  your  path, 
With  but  his  folds  between  your  steps  and  happiness  ; 
When  he,  who  lives  but  to  tear  from  you  name, 
Lands,  life  itself,  lies  at  your  mercy,  with 
Chance  your  conductor  ;  midnight  for  your  mantle  1 
The  bare  knife  in  your  hand,  and  earth  asleep, 
Even  to  your  deadliest  foe  ;  and  he,  as  'twere, 
Inviting  death  by  looking  like  it.  while 
His  death  alone  can  save  you  ;  Thank  your  God  ! 
If  then,  like  me,  content  with  petty  plunder, 
You  turn  aside— I  did  so.'" 

In  Miss  Lee's  "  German's  Tale,"  Si;gcndnrf  s&ys\o  his  son  :— 

"  Conrad,  before  you  thus  presume  to  chastise  me  with  your  ej'e.  lenra 
to  understand  my  actions!— Young  and  inexperienced  in  the  world — re- 
posing hitherto  in  the  bosom  of  indulgence  and  luxury,  is  it  for  i/im  to 
judge  of  the  force  of  the  passions,  or  the  temptations  of  misery  ?— Wait 
till,  like  me,  you  have  blighted  your  fairest  hopes— have  endured  humili- 


ESITOBAL  INTEOEUCTIOlf.  ▼ 

alion  and  sorrow,  poverty  and  famine— before  you  pretend  to  jndj^e  of 
their  efln-ct  on  you !  Should  that  niiseral)le  diiy  ever  arrive— slinnld  you 
see  tlie  being  at  your  merij'.  who  stands  between  yon  and  ever^  thin;,' that 
is  dear  or  uotile  in  life  ! — who  is  ready  to  tear  troin  yon  your  name  — youi 
inheritance— your  very  life  itself— cons^-ratulate  your  own  iieart,  if  like  me 
you  are  content  with  petty  plunder,  and  are  not  tempted  to  exterminate  a 
serpent,  who  now  lives,  perhaps,  to  sting  us  all !" 

But  while  we  notice  the  aids  which  Byron  has  availed  liimself  of  in  the 
production  of  this  splendid  drama,  we  arc  not  insensible  to  the  numerous 
and  highly  wrought  passages  of  original  and  genuine  poetry  with  which  it 
is  enriched,  Even  his  adaptions  are  improvements  on  the  original,  and 
like  Shakspeare,  although  he  borrows  the  thoughts  of  others,  he  yet  in- 
vests his  original  with  added  graces,  by  bis  supereminent  genius  and 
transcendent  powers  of  versitication. 

H. 


CAST    OF    CHARACTERS. 

Oiig^.nal  Cm-ent  Garden.    Arrh  st . ,  Phila.  Broadway. 

^Verne^ Mr  M^icruady.     Mr.  Macieady       Mr.  J.  Wallack,  jr. 

Ulric "  Wallaek.         "     Conner.  "    Fleniming. 

Siralenheim "   H.  Wallack.   "     Altemus.  "    Fredericks. 

Idensleiu "  W.  Uennet.     "     Burton.  "    Yaclie. 

Gab  T "  Cooper.  "    Kyder.  "    Stark. 

Tntz "  Youuge.         "    T.Johnston.    "   Evrard. 

lienrick "  Yarnold.         "     TiUhill.  "    Chapman. 

Erie "Henry-  "     Bowers.  "    Bernard. 

Arnheim "  H<iwell.  "     Wright.  "    Moore. 

Meister "  T  Matthews.  "     Walters.  "    Lewis. 

Rodolph "Baker.  "     Russell.  "    H.Hunt. 

Ludwig "  I'aulo.  "     Hickman.        "    Merril. 

Herman "  "     Hawke. 

Otto "  "    J.  Hawke. 

Joi<ei)hiiie Mrs.  Faucit.        Miss  C.  Cushman.  Mrs.  J.  Wallack. 

Ida  btralenheira. . .  Miss  Mordaunt.  Mrs.  Burke.  "    Sergeant. 

Servants,  fyc. 


COSTUMES. 

WEEXER First  Dre^s  : — Dark  grey  tunic,  trimmed  with  fur,  hanging 

sleeves,  dark  cap  white  tights,    kcccticl  dress  : — Blue  velvet  shirt,  trim- 
med witli  silver  and  red  jjufia.     Third  dress  : — Blue  velvet  shirt  and  cloak, 
white  cap  and  feathers. 
ULRIC. — Same  as  Werner. 
GABOR.— F/rs^rf/f.'!,':— Dark  brown  velvet  shirt,  trimmed  with  fur,  dark 

cap  to  match,  red  tights,  and  gauntlets.    Second  dress: — Coarse  woolen 

shirt  aiid  brown  cloak. 
STRALENHEIM.— Green  velvet  shirt,  trimmed  with  dark  fur  and  gold 

white  tights,  brown  cap  tiimmed  wiih  tur. 
IDENSTEIN.— Slate  coloured  tab  jacket  and  trunks,  trimmed  with  black 

velvet  cloak,  and  red  tights. 
EODOLPH.— Long  white  shirt  with  red  puffs,  trimmed  with  silver,  white 

tights. 
FRITZ.— Slate-coloured  tunic,  trimmed  with  black,  black  cap. 
HENRICK.— BuS  Venetian  tunic,  trimmed  with  black. 
ERiC— Dark  brown  shirt,  trimmed  with  black,  black  cap. 
ARXHEIM.— Black  shape,  trimmed  with  yellow. 
MEISI'ER.— Dark  brown  shape,  with  trunks,  trimmed  with  black  velvet, 

black  cap. 
LUDWIG.— Green  tab  tunic,  with  yellow  trimmings. 
JOSEPH  I.VE.—FiV.';<  dress: — Dark  dress,  trimmed  with  fur.  Second  dress  ; 
—Rich  satin  dress  with  train. 
IDA— Rich  dress,  with  train. 


EXITS  AND  EX M RANGES. 

R.  means  Right  ;    L.  Left  ;   R.  D.  Right  Boor  ;  L.  D.  I^ft  Door  ; 

8.  E.  Second  Entrance  ;  \j.  E.  Upper  Entrance  ;    51.  D.  Middle  Door  ; 

F.  the  Flat  ;  D.  F.  Door  in  Flat. 

RELTFVE     POSITIONS. 

R.,  means  Right ;  L.,  Left  ;  C,  Centre  ;  R.  C,  Right  of  Centre  ;  L.  C, 
Left  of 'Centre. 


W  E  E  jS^  E  E . 


ACT    I  . 

Scene  I. —  The  Hall  of  a  decayed  Palace  near  a  .finall  Town 
en  the  Frontier  of  Silesia. — Large  Foldivg-Dcors  in  F,, 
large  iron  holt  upon  them,  hadced  by  Gothic  )Vi7idoic,  which 
is  transparent — behind  a  piece  of  tattered  Tapestry,  in  R.  F.^ 
is  a  practicable  Panel  in  the  Wainscot. — JJoor,  l.  s.  e. — 
Door  vp  three  steps,  b.  s.  e.     A  tempestuous  Night. 

Werner  and  Josephine,  his  Wife,  discovered. 

Jos.     (Seated  l.  of  table.)     My  love,  be  calmer  I 

Wer.     (Pacing  stage.)     I  am  calm. 

Jos.     To  me — 
Yes,  but  not  to  thyself  :  [Storm. 

Wer.     'I'is  chill ;  the  tapestry  lets  through 
The  wind  to  which  it  waves  :  my  blood  is  frozen. 

Jos.     Ah,  no  ! 
I  would 
Have  it  a  healthful  current. 

Wer.     Let  it  flow 
XJutil  'tis  spilt  or  checked — how  soon,  I  care  not 

Jos.     And  canst  thou  wish  for  that  which  must  break  my 
heart  ? 

Wer.     { Approaching  her  sloirlv.)     The  storm  of  the  m'ght, 
Perhaps,  nffects  me  ;  I'm  a  thing  of  feelings, 
And  have  of  late  been  sickly,  as  alas  I 
Thou  know'st  by  sufferings  more  than  mine,  my  love  ! 
In  watching  me. 

Jos.    To  see  thee  well  is  much — 
To  see  thee  happy — 


8  WERNER.  [Act  I. 

Wer.     Where  hast  thou  seen  me  such  ? 
Let  me  be  wretched  with  the  rest !  [Storm. 

Something  beyond  our  outward  sufT'Tings  ^though 
These  were  enough  to  gnaw  into  our  outward  soulsj 
Hath  stung  me  oft,  and,  more  than  ever,  now. 
When,  but  for  this  untoward  sickness,  which 
Seized  me  upon  this  desolate  frontier,  and 
Hath  wasted,  not  alone  my  strength,  but  means, 
And  leaves  us — no  !  this  is  beyond  me  ! — but 
For  this  I  had  been  happy — Ikou  been  happy — 
The  splendor  of  my  rank  sustained — my  name — 
My  father's  name — been  still  upheld  ;  and,  more 
Than  those — 

Jos.     (Abrvptly.)     My  son — our  son — our  Ulric, 
Been  clasped  again  in  these  long-empty  arms, 
And  all  a  mother's  hunger  satisfied. 
Twelve  years  !  he  was  but  eight  then  : — 
My  Ulric  !  my  adored  !  [Rises  and  goes  to  Werner. 

Take  comfort, — we  shall  find  our  boy.  [  Storm  ceases. 

Wer.     We  were  in  sight  of  him,  of  everything 
Which  could  bring  compensation  for  past  sorrow — 
And  to  be  baffled  thus  !  [Rises  and  paces  Stage  to  B. 

Jos.     {c.)     We  are  not  baffled. 

Wer.     Are  we  not  pennyless  ? 

Jos.     We  ne'er  were  wealthy. 

Wer.     But  I  was  born  to  wealth,  and  rank,  and  power  ; 
And  forfeited  them  by  my  father's  wrath, 
In  my  o'erfervent  youth  ;  his  death  had  now 
Left  the  path  open,  but 
This  cold  and  creeping  kinsman,  the  Stralenheim,  who  so 

long 
Kept  his  eye  on  me,  hath  ere  this  time  outstepped  me, 
Become  the  master  of  my  rights,  and  lord 
Of  that  which  lifts  him  up  to  princes  in 
Dominion  and  domain.  [Crosses,  h^ 

Jos.     Who  knows  ?  our  son 
May  have  returned  back  to  his  grandsire,  and 
Even  now  upliold  thy  rights  for  thee  ? 

Wer.     'Tis  hopeless. 
Since  his  strange  disappearance  from  my  father's, 
Entailing,  as  it  were,  my  sins  upon 
Himself,  no  tidings  have  revealed  his  course. 


Scene  I.]  werner.  9 

I  parted  with  him  to  his  grandsire,  on 
The  promise  that  his  anger  wouhJ  stop  short 
Of  the  third  generation  :  but  Heaven  seems 
To  claim  her  stern  prerogative,  and  visit 
Upon  my  boy  his  father's  faults  and  follies. 

Jos.     1  mr.st  hope  better  still, — at  least  we  have  yet 
Baffled  the  long  pursuit  of  Stralenheira. 

iVer.     We  should  have  done,  but  for  this  fatal  sickness, 

Crosses,  jr. 
"What  chance,  what  hope,  were  left  us,  if  again 
"Within  the  snares  of  this  avaricious  fiend? — 
Aud  how  do  I  know  he  hath  not  tracked  us  here  ? 

Jos.     He  does  not  know  thy  person  ;  and  his  spies. 
Who  so  long  watched  thee,  have  been  left  at  Hamburgh, 
Our  unexpected  journey,  and  this  change 
Of  name,  leaves  ail  discovery  far  behind  : 
!None  hold  us  here  for  aught  save  what  we  seem  ! 

Wer.     Save  what  we   seem  1  save  what   we  are — sick 
beggars, 
Even  to  our  very  hopes — Ha  !  ha  1 

Jos.     Alas ! 
That  bitter  laugh ! 

Wer.      Who  would  read  in  this  form 
The  high  soul  of  the  son  of  a  long  line  ? 
Who,  in  this  garb,  the  heir  of  princely  lands? 
W/io,  in  this  sunken,  sickly  eye,  the  pride 
Of  rank  and  ancestry  ?  in  this  worn  cheek, 
And  famine-hollowed  brow,  the  lord  of  halls, 
Which  daily  feast  a  thousand  vassals  ? 
Jos.     Ha  !  this  has  been  a  canker  in 
Thy  heart  from  the  beginning :  but  for  this, 
We  had  not  felt  our  poverty,  but  as 
Millions  of  myriads  feel  it,  cheerfully  ; 
But  for  these  phantoms  of  thy  feudal  fathers, 
Thou  miffht'st  have  earned  thy  bread,  as  thousands  earn 
it1 
Wer.     (Ironically.)     And  been  an  Hanseatic  burgher  ? 

Excellent  I  [Crosse.'i,  h. 

Jos.     Whate'er  thou  might'st  have  been,  to  m-:-  thou  art, 
What  no  state,  high  or  low,  can  ever  change, 
My  heart's  first  choice  : — which  chose  thee,  knowing  nei- 
ther 


JO  WERNER.  [Act  I. 

Thy   birth,  thy  hopes,  thy  pride;   naught,  save  thy  sor- 
rows : 
While  they  last,  let  me  comfort  or  divide  them  ; 
When  they  end,  let  mine  end  with  them,  or  thee  1 

JVer.     My  better  angel !  such  I  have  ever  found  thee  ; 
This  rashness,  or  this  weakness  of  my  temper, 
Ke'er  raised  a  thought  to  injure  thee  or  thine. 
Trust  me,  when,  in  my  two-and-tvvcntieth  spring 
My  father  barred  me  from  my  father's  house. 
It  hurt  me  less 

Than  to  behold  my  boy  and  my  boy's  mother 
Excluded  in  their  innocence  from  what 
My  faults  deerved,  exclusion.  [A  knocking  heard,  D.  F. 

Jos,     Hark  I 

Wtr.     (Fulling  his  hand  to  his  bosom.)     A  knocking  1 
Puts  his  hand  to  his  bosom  as  ij  to  search  for  some 
weapon. 

Jos.     Oh  !  do  not  look  so.     I 
Will  to  the  door  ;  it  cannot  be  of  import 
In  this  lone  spot  of  wintry  desolation. 

[  Goes  to  the  door  and  unbolts  it. 

Enter  Idenstein,  d.  f. 

Iden.     (r.)     a  fair  good  evening  to  my  fairer  hostess, 
And  worthy — what's  your  name,  my  friend  1 
You  have  been  a  guest  this  month 
Here  in  the  prince's  palace — fto  be  sure, 
His  highness  had  resigned  it  to  the  ghosts 
And  rats  these  twelve  years — but  'tis  still  a  palace j— 
I  say,  you  have  been  our  lodger,  and  as  yet 
We  do  not  know  your  name. 

Wer.     ]\ly  name  is  Werner. 

Id  en.     Hum  ! 
A  goodly  name,  a  very  worthy  name 
As  e'er  was  gilt  upon  a  trader's  board ; 
I  have  a  cousin  in  the  lazaretto 
Of  Hamburgh,  who  has  got  a  wife  who  bore 
The  same.     He  is  an  officer  of  trust, 
Surgeon's  assistant  f  hoping  to  be  snrgeon), 
And  has  done  miracles  i'  the  way  of  business. 
Perhaps  you  are  related  to  my  relative  ? 

Wir.     To  yours  ? 


Scene  I.]  werner.  IJ 

Jos.     Oh,  yes  ;  we  are,  but  distantly. 
(Aside  to  Werner.)     Cannot  you  humor  the  dull  gossip  tilx 
We  learn  his  jnirpose  ? 

Wer.     Well,  to  your  business  ! 
What  brings  you  here  ? 

Jos.     (Aside.)     Patience,  dear  Werner  1 

Iden.     You  don't  know  what  has  happened,  then  ? 

Jos.     How  should  we  ? 

Iden.     The  river  has  o'erflowed. 

Jos.     Alas  !  we  have  known 
That  to  our  sorrow,  for  these  five  days  ;  since 
It  keeps  us  here. 

Iden.     But  what  you  don't  know  is. 
That  a  great  personage,  who  fain  would  cross 
Against  the  stream,  and  three  postillions'  wishes, 
Is  drowned  below  the  ford,  with  five  post-horses 
A  monkey,  and  a  mastifl",  and  a  valet. 

Jns.     Poor  creatures  !'  are  you  sure  ? 

Iden,     Yes,  of  the  monkey, 
And  the  valet,  and  the  cattle  ;  but  as  yet 
We  know  not  if  his  excellency's  dead 
Or  no  ;  your  noblemen  are  hard  to  drown, 
As  it  is  tit  that  men  in  office  should  be  ; 
But,  what  is  certain  is,  that  he  has  swallowed 
Enough  of  the  Oder  to  have  burst  two  peasants  ; 
And  now  a  Saxon  and  Hungarian  traveller. 
Who,  at  their  proper  peril,  snatched  him  from 
The  whirling  river,  have  sent  on  to  crave 
A  lodging,  or  a  grave,  acccJt'ding  as 
It  may  turn  out  with  the  live  or  dead  body. 

Jos.     And  where  will  you  receive  him  ?  here,  I  hope, 
If  we  can  be  of  service — say  the  word. 

Iden.     Here  ?  here  ?  no  ;  but  in  the  prince's  own  apartc 
ment. 
As  fits  a  noble  guest  :  'tis  damp,  no  doubt, 
Kot  having  been  inhabited  these  twelve  years ; 
But  then  he  comes  from  a  much  damper  place. 
So  scarcely  will  catch  cold  in't,  if  he  be 
Still  liable  to  cold — and  if  not,  why. 
He'll  be  worse  lodged  to-morrow  :  ne'ertheless, 
I  have  ordered  fire  and  all  appliances 
To  be  got  ready  for  the  worst — that  is, 


19  WERNER  [Act  I. 

In  case  he  should  survive. 

Jos.     Poor  gcntlenifin  I 
I  hope  he  will,  with  all  my  heart. 

Wer.     luteudant,  [Crosses  to  Idenstdn, 

Have  you   not   learned  his  name?     (Aside  to  Jos.)     My 

Josephine, 
Iletire,  rU  sift  this  fool. 

^ Exit  JosqJilne,  D.  F.,  closing  the  door. 
Did  his  attendant  mention  his 
Kame  or  title  ? 

Idai.     His  nnme  ?  oh,  Lord  ! 
Who  knows  if  he  hath  now  a  name  or  no. 

Enter  Gabor,  d.  f, 

Gahor.     (Lcoldng  in.)     If  I  intrude,  I  crave — 

Mm.     Oh,  no  intrusion  !  [Gabor  advances,  L. 

This  is  the  palace  ;  this  a  stran.ffcr  like 
Yourself  ;  1  pray  you,  make  yourself  at  home  : 

[  Werner  retires. 
But  where's  his  excellency,  and  how  fares  he  ? 

Gahor.     AVet  and  wearily,  but  out  of  peril  ; 
He  paused  to  change  his  garments  in  a  cottage, 
(Where  I  doffed  mine  for  these,  and  came  on  hither), 
And  has  almost  recovered  from  his  drenching. 
He  will  bi!  here  anon. 

Iden.     What,  ho,  there  !  bustle  ! 
Without,  there,  Herman,  Weilburg,  Peter,  Conrad  I 

[Gives  directions  to  six  Senmnls,w/io  enter,  D.  F. 
A  nobleman  sleeps  here  to-nigh Ir— see  that 
All  is  oi'der  in  the  damask  chamber — 
Keep  up  the  stove — I  will  myself  to  the  cellar — 
And  .Madame  Idenstein  ('my  consort,  stranger, j 
Shall  furnish  forth  the  bed-apparel  i 

Go,  you  varlets  1       [Exit  Servants,  three,  r.  s.  e.,  three,  D.  r. 
But  are  you  sure 
His  excellency — but  his  name,  what  is  it  ? 

Gabor.     I  do  not  know. 

Iden.     And  yet  you  saved  his  life. 

Gabor.     I  helped  my  friend  to  do  so. 

Iden.     Well,  that's  strange, 
To  save  a  man's  life  whom  you  do  not  know 

Gabor.     Not  so ;  for  there  are  some  I  know  so  well 


Scene  I.]  werneh.  13 

]  scarce  should  give  myself  the  trouble. 

Idcn.     Pray, 
Good  friend,  and  who  may  you  be? 

Gahor.     Bj  my  family. 
Huii<:^arian. 

Idcv.     Wliich  is  called? 
Gahor.     Ko  matter  what. 

Iden.     (Aside.)     I  thiuk  that  all  the  world  are  grown 
anonymous, 
Pray,  has  his  excellency  a  large  suite  ? 
GiiJjor.     Sufficient. 
Men.     IIow  many  ? 
Gahor.     I  did  not  count  them. 
We  came  up  Vjy  mere  accident,  and  just 
In  time  to  drag  him  through  his  carriage  window. 

Idcn.     Well,  what  would  I  give  to  save  a  great  man  ! 
No  doubt  you'll  have  a  swingeing  sum  as  recompense. 
Gahor.     Perhaps, 

Idni.     Now,  how  much  do  you  reckon  on  ? 
Gahor.     I  have  not  yet  put  up  myself  to  sale  : 
In  the  meantime,  ray  best  reward  would  be 
A  glass  of  your  Hockheimer, 
For  which  I  promise  you,  in  case  you  e'er 
Run  hazard  of  being  drowned,  (although  I  own 
It  seems,  of  all  deaths,  the  least  likely  for  youj, 
I'll  pull  you  out  for  nothing. 

Iden.     (Aside,  going  up.)     I  don't  much  like  this  fellow- 
close  and  dry 
He  seems,  two  things  which  suit  me  not ;  however, 
Wine  he  shall  have  :  if  that  unlocks  him  not, 
I  sliall  not  sleep  to-night  for  curiosity.  Exit,  d.  p 

Gahor.     (l.)     fTo  Werner.)     This  master  of  the  cere- 
monies is 
The  intf  ndant  of  the  palace,  I  presume  : 
'Tis  a  f  ne  building,  but  decayed. 

Wer.     The  apartment 
Design(  d  f  jr  him  you  rescued  will  be  found 
In  Otttr  order  for  a  sickly  guest. 

Gahor.     I  wonder,  then,  you  occupied  it  not, 
For  you  seem  delicate  in  health. 
Wer.     (Quicldy.)     Sir  1 
Gahor.     Pray 


14  WERKES.  [Act  I. 

Exou?c  me  :  have  I  said  auglit  to  offend  you  ? 

Wcr.     Notliiii;^  :  but  \vc  arc  strangers  to  each  other. 

Gabor.     Pardon  me  : 
I  have  been  a  soldier,  and  perhaps  am  blunt 
In  bearing. 

We?:     I  have  also  served,  and  can 
E-e(|uite  a  soldier's  greeting. 

Gabor.     In  what  service? 
The  Imperial  ? 

Tfe/-.     (Qidcldy,  thm  inlerrupting  hiinsclf.)    I  commanded 
— no — I  mean, 
I  served  :  but  it  is  many  years  ago. 
When  first  Bohemia  raised  her  banner  'gahist 
The  Austrian. 

Gabor.     Well,  that's  over  now,  and  peace 
lias  turned  some  thousand  gallant  hearts  adrift 
To  live  as  they  best  may  ;  and,  to  say  truth, 
Some  take  the  shortest. 

Wer.     What  is  that? 

Gabor.     Whate'er 
They  lay  their  hands  on.     All  Silesia  and 
Lusatia's  woods  are  tenanted  by  bands 
Of  the  late  troops,  who  levy  on  the  country 
Their  maintenance.     The  longest  sword  now  makes 
The  surest  title  to  the  heaviest  purse. 
INly  comfort  is  that,  wander  whei'c  I  may, 
I've  little  left  to  lose  now. 

IVer.     And  I — nothing. 

Gabor.     That's  harder  still.     You  say  you  were  a  soldier  ? 

Wer.     I  was. 

Gabor.     You  look  one  still.     All  soldiers  are 
Or  should  be  comrades,  even  though  enemies. 
You  are  poor  and  sickly — I  am  not  rich,  but  healthy 
I  want  for  nothing  which  I  cannot  want  ; 
You  seem  devoid  of  this — wilt  share  it? 

\_Pulls  out  his  purse  and  offers  it  to  him. 

Wcr.     Who 
Told  you  I  was  a  beggar  ? 

Gabor.     You  yourself. 
In  saying  you  were  a  soldier  during  peace-time. 

Wer.     (Lookivg  at  him  with  suspicion.)     You  know  me 
not? 


Scene  L]  werner.  15 

Gahor.     I  know  no  man,  not  even 
Myself :  how  should  I  then  know  one  I  ne'er 
Bt'lield  till  half  an  hour  since  ? 
Wer.     Sir,  I  thank  you. 
Your  offer's  noble,  were  it  to  a  friend, 
And  not  nukiud  as  to  an  unknown  stranger, 
Though  scarcely  prudent  ;  but  no  less,  1  thank  you. 
I  am  a  beggar  in  all  save  his  trade. 
And  when  I  beg  of  any  one,  it  shall  be 
Of  him  who  has  the  first  to  offer  what 
i^'ew  can  obtain  by  asking.     Pardon  me.      [Exit,  l.  s.  e. 

Galor.     (  Solus.)     A  goodly  fellow,  by  his  looks,  though 
worn, 
As  most  goodly  fellows  are,  by  pain  or  pleasure, 
Which  tear  the  life  out  of  us  before  our  time  : 
I  scarce  know  which  most  quickly  ;  but  he  seems 
To  have  seen  better  days,  as  who  has  not 
Who  has  seen  yesterday  ? 

Idenstein.     (  Without,  d.  f.J  Well,  that  will  do. 

Gahor.     But  here  approaches 
Ot^r  sage  intendaut,  with  the  wine  ;  however, 
For  the  cup's  sake,  I'll  bear  the  cup-bearer. 

Enter  Indenstein,  d.  f.,  ivith   salver,    bottle,  and  two  green 
glasses. 

Hen.     (Doion,  r.)  'Tis  here  !  the  supernaculum  1  twenty 
years 
Of  age  if  'tis  a  day. 

Gahor.     Which  epoch  makes 
Young  women  and  old  wine,  and  'tis  great  pity 
Of  two  such  excellent  things,  increase  of  years. 
Which  still  improves  the  one,  should  spoil  the  other. 
Fill  full — Here's  to  our  hostess — your  fair  wife. 

[  Takes  the  glass  and  drinls. 

Men.     Fair  ! — Well,  I  trust  your  taste  in  wine  is  equal 
To  that  you  show  for  beauty  ;  but  I  pledge  you, 
Nevertheless.  [Drinks. 

Gahor.     Is  not  the  lovely  woman. 
I  met  in  the  adjacent  hall  your  spouse? 

Iden.     Ah  !  ha  !  I  would  she  were  ! 
But  you're  mistaken — that's  the  stranger's  wife. 

Gahor.    And  by  her  aspect  she  might  be  a  prince's  : 


16 


WERNER. 


[Act  I. 


Though  time  hath  touched  her,  too,  she  still  retains 
Much  beauty,  and  more  ranjesty. 

Lien.     And  that 
Is  more  than  I  can  say  for  Madame  Tdenstein, 
At  least  in  hoautv. 

Gahor.     But  who  {Drinks 

May  he  be,  this  stranji:er  ?  how  came  he  here  ? 

Lien.     In  a  most  miserable  old  caleche, 
About  a  month  since,  and  immediately 
Fell  sick,  ahnost  to  death,     lie  should  have  died. 

Gahor.     Tender  and  true  !— but  why  ?  IDrinks. 

Lkn.     Wiiy,  what  is  life 
Without  a  iivinji;  ?     He  has  not  a  stiver. 

Gahor.     In  tliat  case,  I  much  wonder  that  a  person 
Of  your  apparent  j)rudence  should  admit 
Guests  so  forlorn  into  this  nolde  mansion. 

Lien.     Tiiat's  true  ;  but  pity,  as  you  know,  does  make 
One's  heart  commit  these  folHes  ;  and  besides, 
They  had  some  valuables  left  at  that  time, 
Whicli  paid  their  way  up  to  the  present  hour, 
And  so  I  i^ave  them 

Tlie  run  of  some  of  the  oldest  palace  rooms. 
They  served  to  air  them,  at  the  least,  as  long 
As  they  could  pay  for  firewood.  [Drinks. 

Gahor.     Poor  souls  1 

Lden.     Ay, 
Exceeding  poor. 

Gahor.     And  yet  unused  to  poverty,  ^ 

If  I  mistake  not.     Whither  were  they  going  ? 

Iclen.     Oh  1  Heaven   knows   where,  unless  to   heaven  it- 
self ! 
Some  days  ago  that  looked  the  likeliest  journey 
For  Werner. 

Gahor.     Werner  I  I  have  heard  the  name, 
But  it  may  be  a  feigned  one. 

Lkn.     (l.j  Like  enough  ! 
But  hark  !  a  noise  of  wheels  and  voices,  and 
A  blaze  of  torches  from  without.     As  sure 
As  destiny,  his  excellency's  come. 
I  mast  be  at  my  i)Ost  :  will  you  not  join  me, 
To  help  him  from  his  carriage,  and  present 
Your  humble  duty  at  the  door  ? 


Scene  I.'j  wrrner.  17 

Gabnr.     I  drairjirecl  Wm 
From  out  that  carringe  when  he  v»'Ould  have  given 
His  barony  or  county  to  repel 
The  riishhig  river  from  hisgurg-linf)^  throat. 
For  duty,  fas  you  call  itj  1  did  mine  then, 
Isow  do  yours.     Ileuce,  and  bow  and  cringe  liira  here  I 

Ickn.     /cringe  ! — but  I  shall  lose  the  opportunity — 
Plague  take  it  1  he'll  be  here,  and  I  not  there  ! 

\_Exit  hastily,  d.  f. 
Be-cnter  Werner,  l.  s.  e. 

Wer.     (  To  himself.)  I  heard  a  noise  of  wheels  and  voices. 
How 

All  sounds  now  jar  me  ! 

(Ferctiving  Gahor.)  Still  here  !     Is  he  not 

A  spy  of  my  pursuer's  ?     His  frank  offer, 

So  suddenly,  and  to  a  stranger  wore 

The  aspect  of  a  secret  enemy  : 

For  friends  are  slow  at  such.  \_Crosses,  r. 

Gabor.     (Rises.)  Sir,  you  seem  rapt, 
And  yet  the  time  is  not  a  kin  to  thought. 
These  old  walls  will  be  noisy  soon.     The  baron, 
Or  count,  for  whatsoe'er  this  half-drowned  noble 
May  be,)  for  whom  tiiis  desolate  village,  and 
Its  lone  inhabitants,  show  more  respect 
Than  did  the  elements,  is  come.  (Dowiib.  cortier. 

Idenstein.     (  Without.)  This  way — 
This  way,  your  excellency  :  have  a  care, 
The  staircase  is  a  little  gloomj',  and 
Somewhat  decayed  ;  but  if  we  had  expected 
So  high  a  guest — pray  take  my  arm,  my  lord  1 

Enter  six  Servants  of  the  Place,  with  torches,  and  range  on 
each  side  of  the  Stage — Idensteix  and  B.arox  down  c, 
Idenstein  at  l.  of  Paron  Strcdenheim,  o[ficiouslv  bowing 
and  scraping.  Six  Servants  of  the  Baron  follow  and 
range  in  double  fde  across  the  bade — all  enter,  d.  f. — 
Fritz  enters  at  k.  of  Baron. 

Stra.     I'll  rest  me  here  a  moment. 
Idcn.     Ho  !  a  chair  ! 
Instantly,  knaves ! 

(Friz  places  a  chair,  and  StraUnheim  sits 


18  WERNER.  [Act  I. 

Wer.     (Aside.)  'Tis  he  1  I'm  lost  I 

Stra.     I'm  better  now. 
"Who  are  these  strangers  ? 

Iden.     Please  you,  my  good  lord, 
One  says  he  is  no  stranger. 

Wer.     (Aloud  a7id  hastily.)   TF/^fl  says  that? 

(T/iey  look  at  him  with  surprise. 

Idcn.     Why,  no  one  spoke  of  yon,  or  to  you  ! — but 
ITcre's  one  his  excellency  may  be  pleased 
To  recognise.  (Fainting  to  Gabor 

Gahor.     I  seek  not  to  disturb 
His  noble  memory. 

Stra.     I  apprehend 
This  is  one  of  the  strangers  to  whose  aid 
I  owe  my  rescue.     Is  not  that  the  other? 

(Pointing  to  Werner. 

Men.     lie  ! — no,  my  lord  !  he  rather  wants  lor  rescue 
Than  can  afford  it.     'Tis  a  poor  sick  man, 
Travel-tired,  and  lately  risen  from  a  bed, 
From  whence  he  never  dreamed  to  rise 

Stra.     Methought 
That  there  were  two. 

Gahor.     There  were,  in  company  ; 
But,  in  the  service  rendeied  to  your  lord.ship, 
I  needs  must  say  but  one,  and  he  is  absent. 
The  chief  part  of  whatever  aid   was  rendered 
Was  his ;  I  was  but  a  glad  second 
Unto  a  nobler  principal. 

Stra.     AVhereishe? 

Fritz,     (h.)  My  lord,  he  tarried  in  the  cottage  where 
Your  excellency  rested  for  an  hour, 
And  said  he  would  be  here  to-morrow.  (Retires. 

Stra.     Till 
That  hour  arrives,  I  can  but  offer  thanks, 
And  then — 

Gabor.     I  seek  no  more,  and  scarce  deserve 
So  much.     My  comrade  may  speak  for  himself. 

Stra.     {Fixing  his  eyes  upon  Werner,  then  aside.") 
It  cannot  be  !  and  yet  it  must  be  looked  to. 
'Tii  twenty  yearsince  I  beheld  him  with 
These  eyes.     Why  did  I  leave 
At  Hamburgh  those  who  would  have  made  assurance 


SCF,XE  I.]  WERNER.  19 

If  this  be  lie  or  no  ?  this  sudden  flood 
May  keep  me  prisoner  here  till — 

[Pauses  and  looks  at  Werner,  then  resumes. 
Tliis  man  must 

Be  watched.     If  it  is  he,  he  is  so  changed, 
His  father,  rising  from  his  grave  again, 
Would  pass  by  him  unknown.     I  must  be  wary  ; 
An  eiror  would  spoil  all. 

Idcn      Comivg  forward,  l.)   Your  Lordsliip  seems 
Pensive.     Will  it  not  jjlease  you  to  pass  on  ? 
Slra.     Yes,  I  will  to  rest. 

[Hhcs. — Frilz  draws  bad:  ike  chair. 
Men.     The  prince's  chamber  is  })rei)art'd,  with  all 
The  very  furniture  of  the  prince  used  when 
Last  here,  in  its  full  splendor.  (Aside.)  Somewliat  tattered, 
And  devilish  damp,  but  fine  enough  Ijy  torchlight. 

lDis7nisses  his    men  Scrvanls,  who  give    their    torches  to 
tStralenheivi's  Attendants,    and    then    exeunt,    d.   f. — 
Idenstein  directs  Stralenheivi's  Servants  off',  r.  s.  e. 
Stra.     Good    night,  good  people  !    (Turning  to  Gabor.) 
Sir,  I  trust  to-morrow 
Will  find  me  apter  to  requite  your  service. 
In  the  mean  time,  I  crave  your  company 
A  moment  in  my  chamber, 
Gabor.     I  attend  you. 
Stra.      [After  a  few    steps,  pauses,    and    calls    Werner. 

Friend  ! 
Wer.     Sir  ! 

Iden.     (Running  to  Werner.)   Sir  !      Lord — oh,   Lord  I 
Wbv  don't  you  say 
Ilis  lordship,  or  his  excellency  ?     Pray, 
My  lord,  excuse  this  poor  man's  want  of  breeding : 
He  hath  nor  been  accustomed  to  admission 
To  such  a  presence. 

Stra.     Peace,  Intendaut  1 
Iden.     Oh  ! 
I  am  dumb  ! 

Stra.  (Advances  to  Werner  )    Have  you  been  long  here  ? 
Wer.     Long  ? 
Stra.     I  sought 
An  answer,  not  an  echo. 


20  WERXER.  [Act  I. 

Wer.     You  may  seek 
Both  from  tlie  walls.     I  am  not  used  to  answer 
Those  whom  I  k'low  not. 

Stra.     Indeed  !     Nevertheless, 
You  raii,'ht  reply  with  courtesy,  to  what 
Is  asked  in  kiiuliioss. 

TTcr.     When  I  knew  it  such, 
I  will  requite — that  is,  repli/ — iu  unison. 

*S//-a.     The  lutendaut   said,  you  had  been   detained  by 
sickness — 
If  I  could  aid  you — jonrneying  the  same  way  1 

Wer.     (Quickly.)     I  am  not  jourueying  the  same  way  I 

Stra.     How  know  ye 
That,  ere  you  know  my  route  ? 

Wer.     Because  there  is 
But  one  way  that  the  rich  and  poor  must  tread 
Together.     You  diverged  from  that  dread  path 
Some  hours  ago,  and  1  some  days  ;  henceforth 
Our  roads  must  lie  asunder,  though  they  tend 
All  to  one  home. 

Stra.    Your  language  is  above 
Your  station. 

Wer.     (Bilterly.)  Is  it? 

Stra.     Or,  at  least,  beyond 
Your  garb 

Wer.     'Tis  weli  that  it  is  not  beneath  it, 
As  sometimes  happens  to  the  better  clad. 
But,  in  a  word,  what  would  you  with  me  ? 

Stra.     (  Startled.)  I  ? 

Wer.     Yes — you  !     You  know  me  not,  and  question  mo, 
And  wonder  that  I  answer  not — not  knowing 
My  inquisitor.     Explain  what  you  would  have, 
And  then  I'll  satisfy  yourself,  or  me. 

Stra.     I  knew  not  that  you  liad  reasons  for  reserve. 

Wer.     Many  have  such  : — Have  you  none  ? 

Stra.     None  which  can 
Interest  a  mere  stranger. 

Wer.     Then  forgive 
The  same  unknown  and  humble  stranger,  if 
He  wishes  to  remain  so  to  the  man 
Who  can  have  naught  in  common  with  him. 

Stra.     Sir, 


SCEXE  l.J  WERXKR.  21 

I  will  not  baulk  your  humor,  tliou;;n  untoward  : 

I  only  meant  your  service — but,  good  niglit  ! 

Intendaiit,  slio'.v  the  way  !     [Ilea,  takes  the  torch  from  Fritz. 

(To  Galor.)  Sir  you  will  with  uie  ? 

[Exeunt  Slralenhei/n  preceded  by  Idenstcin  and  followed 
by  Gabor  and  Fritz,  r.  s,  e 
Wer.     ( Solus.)    'Tis  he  !  I  am   taken  in  the   toils.     Be- 
fore 
I  quitted  Hamburgh  Giulio,  his  late  steward, 
In{'ormo('.  me  that  he  had  obtained  an  order 
From  Brandenburgli's  elector,  for  the  arrest 
Of  Kruitzner  fsuch  the  name  I  then  bore,j  when 
I  came  ujiou  the  frontier  ;  the  free  city 
Alone  preserved  my  freedom — till  I  left 
Its  walls — fool  that  I  was  to  quit  thera  I     But 
I  deemed  this  humble  garb,  and  route  obscure 
Had  baffl"d  the  slow  hounds  in  tlieir  pursuit. 
AV  hat's  to  be  done  ?     He  knows  me  not  by  person  ; 
Nor  could  aught  save  the  eye  of  apprehension, 
Have  recognised  him,  after  twenty  years, 
We  met  so  rarely  and  so  coldly  in 
Our  youth.     But  those  about  him  !     Xow  I  can 
Divine  the  frankness  of  the  Hungarian,  who, 
Xo  doubt,  is  a  mere  tool  and  spy  of  Stralenheim's, 
To  sound  and  to  secure  me.     Without  means  ! 
Sick,  poor — begirt,  too,  with  the  flooding  rivers, 
How  can  I  hope  !     Another  day. 
And  I'm  detected, — on  the  very  even 
Of  honors,  rights,  and  my  inheritance. 
When  a  few  drops  of  gold  might  save  me  still 
In  favoring  an  escape.  [Throivs  himself  in  chair,  i,. 

Enter  Idexsteix  and  Fritz,  r.  s.  £.,  xcilh  a  torch  and  packet 

Fritz.     Immediately. 

Lien.     I  tell  you,  'tis  impossible. 

Fritz.     It  must 
Be  tried,  however  ;  and  if  one  express 
Fail,  you  must  send  on  others,  till  the  answer 
Arrives  from  Frankfort,  from  the  commandant. 

[Giving  packet, 

Iden.     I  will  do  wha*.  I  can 


22  WERKER.  [Act  I. 

Fntz.     AtkI  recollect 
To  spare  no  trouble  ;  you  will  be  repaid 
Tenlold. 

Idea.     The  Baron  is  retired  to  rest ; 
He  hath  thrown  himself  into  an  easy  chair 
Beside  the  fire,  and  slumbers  ;  and  has  ordered 
Jle  may  not  be  disturbed  until  eleven, 
^Vhen  lie  will  take  himself  to  bed. 

Id  en.    Be  lure 
An  hour  is  \y.\>i  I'll  do  my  best  to  serve  bim. 

Fniz.     ll'-memljcr  I    '  Exit,  R. 

Lien.     The  devil  take  these  great  men  !  they 
Think  all  things  made  for  them.     Kow  here  must  I 
House  np  some  half  a  dozen  shiverini^  vassals 
From  their  scant  pallets,  and,  at  peril  of 
Their  lives,  despatch  them  o'er  the  river  towards 
Frankfort,     Methinks  the  baron's  own  experience 
bome  hours  ago  might  teach  him  fellow-feeling  : 
But  no,  "it  ?H?<5f,"  and  there's  an  end.     How  now? 
Are  you  there.  Mynheer  Werner? 

Wer.     You  have  left 
Your  noble  guest  right  quickly. 

Idcn.     Yes — he's  dozing, 
And  seems  to  like  that  none  shonld  sleep  besides. 
Here  is  a  packet  for  the  commandant 
Of  Frankfort,  at  all  risks  and  all  expenses  ; 
But  1  must  not  lose  time  :  Goodnig'at  1  [^Ezit,  d.  p. 

Wer.     "  To  Frankfort  !"  IRises 

So,  so,  it  thickens  !     Ay,  "the  coraraandant.'* 
This  tallies  well  with  all  the  prior  steps 
Of  this  cool,  calculating  fiend,  who  walks 
Between  me  and  my  father's  house.     Detested 
Coward,  he  goads  me  into  madness  !     No  doubt 
He  writes  for  a  detachment  to  convey  me 
Into  some  secret  fortress. — Sooner  than 
This — ( Looks  around,  and  snatclie^i  up  a  knife  lying  on  a  falh.) 

isow  I  am  master  of  myself  at  least. 
Hark, — footsteps  I     Uow^  do  1  know  that  Stralenheim 
"Will  wait  for  even  the  show  of  state  authority? 
All  that  is  dear  in  life,  e'en  life  itself, 
Hangs  on  a  moment  I 
That  he  suspects  me's  certain.     I'm  alone  : 


Scene  I,]  werner.  23 

He  with  a  numerous  train.     I  weak  ;  he  stron;^ 

In  gold,  in  numbers,  rank,  authority.      Hark  !  nearer  stiil  1 

I'll  to  the  secret  passage,  which  communicates 

"With  the — No  !  all  is  silent — 'twas  my  fancy  I — 

Still  the  breatless  interval  betn'een 

Tlie  flash  and  thunder  : — I  must  hu.sh  my  soul 

Amidst  its  perils.     Yet  I  will  retire, 

To  see  if  still  be  unexplored  the  passage 

I  wot  of :  it  will  serve  me  as  a  den 

Of  secrecy  for  some  hours,  at  the  worst, 

[Draws  a  'panel  and  exit,  closivg  it  afler  him. 
Enter  GrABOR  xcith  a  torch,  R.  s.  'E..,and  Josepaine,  d.  f.,  with 
lamps. 

Gahor.     Where  is  your  Imsband  ?  [Looking  rouiid. 

Jos.     Here,  I  thought  :  I  left  him 
Kot  long  since  in  his  ciiambcr.     But  these  rooms 
Have  many  outlets,  and  he  may  be  gone 
To  accompany  the  Intendant.  [Puts  the  lamps  on  table. 

Gahor.     (Approaching  her.)  Baron  Straleuheim 
Put  many  questions  so  the  Intendant  on 
The  subject  of  your  lord,  and,  to  be  plain, 
I  have  my  doubts  it  meaus  well. 

Jos.     Alas  ! 
What  can  there  be  in  common  with  tlie  proud 
And  wealthy  Baron  and  the  unknown  \Veruer  ? 

Gahor.     That  you  know  best. 

Jos.     Or,  if  it  were  so,  how 
Come  you  to  stir  yourself  in  his  behalf, 
lluther  than  that  of  him  whose  life  you  saved? 

Gahor.     I  helped  to  save  him,  as  in  peril  ;  but 
I  did  not  pledge  myself  to  serve  him  iu 
Oppressiou.     1  know  well  these  nobles,  and 
Their  thousand  modes  of  trampling  on  the  poor. 
I  have  proved  them  ;  and  my  spirit  boils  up  when 
I  hnd  them  practising  against  the  weak  : — 
This  is  my  only  motive. 

Jos.     It  would  be 
Kot  easy  to  persuade  my  husband  of 
Your  good  intentions. 

Gahor.     Is  he  so  suspicious  ? 

Jos.     ( Sighing.)     He  was  at  once  ;  but  time  am]  trou- 
bles have 


24  WERNER.  [Act  I. 

[Made  him  what  you  beheld. 

Gahor.     I'm  sorry  for  it.  \Goingu'p,-R. 

Suspicion  is  a  heavy  armor,  and 
AVith  its  own  wcig-ht  impedes  more  than  it  protects. 
Good  night.     I  trust  to  meet  with  liim  at  daybreak. 

Exit,  D.  F. — Toscphine  retires  up  the  Hall. 

Jos.     And  'tis  to  be  amongst  these  sovereigns 
Aly  liusband  pants  !  and  such  his  pride  of  birth — 
Wliilst  I,  born  nobly  also,  from  my  father's 
Kindness  was  taught  a  diHerent  lesson.     Ulric  !  my  son  1 
What's  that? 

Enter  "Werner  hastily  icifh  the  knife  in  his  hand,  by  tlie  secret 
panel,  ichich  he  closes  hurriedly  after  him. 

Thou,  Werner  can  it  be  ?  and  thus. 

Wer.     (Not  at  first  recognizing  her.)  Discovered  1  then 
I'll  stab — (Recognizing  her.)  Ah  !  Josephine, 
Why  art  thou  not  at  rest  ? 

Jos.     What  rest  ?     Great  Heaven  ! 
What  doth  tliis  mean  ? 

Wer.     (  Showing  a  purse.)  Here's  gold — ^g"oW,  Josephine, 
Will  rescue  us  from  this  detested  dungeon. 

Jos.     I  dare  not  think  thee  guilty  of  dishonor. 

Wer.     Dislionor  ! 

Jos.     I  have  said  it. 

Wer.     Let  us  hence  : 
Let  us  to  oar  chamber. 

Jos.     Yet  one  question — 
What  hast  thou  donef 

Wer.     (  Fiera'ly.)     Left  one  thing  undone,  which 
Had  made  all  well :  let  me  not  think  of  it  1 
Away  1  lExeiint,  l. 

END    OF   ACT   I. 


Scene  I.]  werner.  25 

ACT    II. 

Scene  I . — A  Hall  in  the  same  Pau(ce. 

Enter  Idekstein,    Fritz,  and  four  Servants,  r. — Idenstein 
paces  in  a  great  hurry  up  and  down. 

Iden.     Fine  doings  !  goodly  doings  !  honest  doings  1 
A  baron  pillaged  in  a  prince's  palace  ! 
Oh  ?  that  I  ere  slioaid  live  to  see  this  day  ! 
The  honor  of  our  city's  gone  forever,  [Crosses,  l. 

Friz.     Well,  but  now  to  discover  the  delinquent  : 
The  baron  is  determined  not  to  lose 
This  sum  without  a  search. 

Iden.     And  so  am  I. 

Friiz.     But  whom  do  you  suspect  ? 

Iden.     Suspect  all  people 
Without — within — above — below — Ileaven  help  me  ! 

[  Crosses,  r. 

Fritz.     Is  there  no  other  entrance  to  the  chamber  ? 

luden.     None  whatsoever. 

Fritz.     The  man  call'd  Werner's  poor  ? 

Iden.     Poor  as  a  miser, 
But  lodged  so  far  oil,  in  the  other  wing 
That  it  can't  be  he. 

Fritz.     Tiiere's  another, 
The  stranger — 

Iden.     The  Hungarian  ? 

Fritz.     He  who  helped 
T©  tish  the  Baron  from  the  Oder? 
Now,  the  only  question  is — Who  else  could  havo 
Access,  save  the  Hungarian  and  yourself  ? 

Iden.     You  don't  mean  me? 

Fritz.     No,  sir  ;  I  honor  more 
Your  talents — 

Iden.     Andy  ray  principles,  I  hope. 

Fritz.     Of   course.     But  to   the   point :  What's   to  be 
done  ? 

Iden.     Um — why, 
Nothing — but  there's  a  good  deal  to  be  said. 
We'll  offer  a  reward ;  move  heaven  and  earth, 
And  the  police,  (though  there's  none  nearer  than 

I 


26  WERNER.  [Act  IL 

Frankfort  ;)  post  notices  in  manuscript, 
(For  we've  no  printer  ; )  and  set  by  my  clerk 
To  read  them,  f  for  few  can,  save  he  and  1.) 
We'll  send  out  villains  to  strip  beggars,  and 
Seardi  empty  pockets  ;  also,  to  arrest 
Ail  gipsies,  and  ill-clothed  and  sallow  people. 
Frisoncis  we'll  have  at  least,  if  not  the  culprit; 
And  there's  some  comfort 
For  your  lord's  losses  ! 

Fiilz.     lie  hath  found  a  better. 

Idm.     Where  ? 

Frilz.     In  a  most  immense  inheritance. 
The  late  Count  Siegendorf,  his  distant  kinsman, 
Is  dead  near  Prague,  in  his  castle,  and  my  lord 
Is  on  his  way  to  take  possession. 

Idea.      Was  there 
ISo  heir  ? 

Frilz.     Oh,  yes  ;  but  he  has  disappeared 
Long  from  the  world's  eye,  and  perhaps  the  world 
A  prodigal  son,  beneath  his  father's  baa 
For  the  last  twenty  years  ; 
'Tis  true,  there  is  a  grandson,  but  then 
His  birth  is  doubtful. 

Idm.     How  so  ? 

Fritz.     His  prodigal  father  made 
A  hasty  love,  impiudent  sort  of  marriage 
With  an  Italian  exile's  dark-eyed  daughter : 
The  grandsire  never  since  could  be  induced 
To  see  the  j)arents  though  he  took  the  son. 
But  the  strangest  is,  that  he  too  disappeared 
Some  months  ago. 

Men.     The  devil  hn  did  ! 
Was  there  no  cause  assigned  ? 

Fritz.     Plenty,  no  doubt, 
And  none  perhaps  the  true  one.     Some 
Charitably  have  surmised. 

As  tliere  was  something  strange  and  mystic  in  him, 
That  in  the  wild  exuberance  of  his  nature. 
He  had  joined  the  black  bauds  who  lay  waste  Lusatia. 

Idcn.     That  cannot  be. 
A  young  heir,  bred  to  wealth  and  luxury— 

Fritz.     Heaven  knows  best  1 


Scene  1. 1  werneb.  10 

But  there  are  human  natures  so  allied 

Unto  the  savage  love  of  enterprise, 

Tliat  they  will  seek  for  peril  as  a  pleasure. 

Here  comes 

The  Baron  and  the  Saxon  stranger,  who 

Was  his  chief  aid  in  yesterday's  escape. 

But  did  not  leave  the  cottage  by  the  Oder 

Until  this  morning.  [  T/iey  retire,  R. 

Enter  Ulric  and  Stralenheim,  r. 

Stra.     But 
Can  I  not  serve  yon  ? 
I  owe  my  life  to  you,  and  you  refuse 
The  acquittance  of  the  interest  of  the  debt, 
To  heap  more  obligations  on  me,  till 
I  bow  beneath  them. 

Ulric.     You  shall  say  so  when 
I  claim  the  payment. 

Stra.     Well,  sir,  since  you  will  not — 
You  are  nobly  born  ? 

Ulric.     I've  heard  my  kinsmen  say  so. 

Stra.     Your  actions  show  it.     Might  I  ask  your  name  ? 

Ulric     Ulric. 

Stra.     Your  house's  ? 

Ulric.    When  I'm  worthy  of  it, 
I'll  answer  you.  [Retires,  L. 

Stra.     (Aside.)     Most  probably  an  Austrian, 
Whom  these  unsettled  times  forbid  to  boast 
His  lineage  on  these  wild  and  dangerous  frontiers. 

[  To  Fritz  oiul  Idenstcin,  who  conn  down,  r. 
So,  sirs  !  how  have  ye  sped  in  your  researches  ? 

Iden.     Indifferent  well,  your  exccUeucy. 

Stra.     Then 
I  am  to  deem  the  plunderer  is  caught  ? 

Iden.     Humph  1 — not  exactly. 

Stra.     Or,  at  least,  suspected  ? 

Idci.     Oh  !  for  tliat  matter,  very  much  suspected. 

Stra.     Who  may  he  be  ? 

Iden,     Why,  don't  i/oic  know,  my  lord  ? 

Stra.     How  should  1  ?     1  was  fast  asleep, 

Iden.     And  so 
Was  I,  aud  that's  the  cause  I  kaow  ao  more. 


28  WERNER.  [Act  II. 

Tbfin  does  yonr  excellency. 

Stra.      Dolt  ! 

If/cn.     AVhy,  if 
Your  lordsliii),  being  robloed,  don't  recoj2:nise 
The  roLMic,  how  should  I,  not  l)eing  robbed,  identify 
The  thief  among  so  many  ?     In  the  crowd, 
May  it  j)lease  your  excellency,  your  thief  looks 
Kxiictiy  liki;  tlie  rest,  or  rather  better, 

Slra.     (To  Fritz.)     Prithee,  Fr.tz,  inform  me 
What  hath  been  done  to  trace  the  fellow  ? 

Fritz.     Faith, 
My  lord,  not  much  as  yet,  except  conjecture. 

Slra.     Besides  the  loss  fwhich,  I  must  own,  affects  me 
Just  now  materially j,  I  needs  would  find 
The  villain  out  of  public  motives. 

Ulric.     (h.)     What  is  all  this  ? 

Stra.     You  joined  us  but  this  morning. 
And  have  not  heard  that  I  was  robbed  last  night. 

Ulric.     Some  rumor  of  it  reached  me  as  I  passed 
The  outer  chambers  of  the  palace,  but 
I  know  no  further. 

Stra.     It  is  a  strange  business  : 
The  Intendant  can  inform  you  of  the  facts. 

Iden.     Most  willingly.     You  see — 

Stra.     (Impatiently.)     Defer  your  tale 
Till  certain  of  the  hearer's  patience. 

Iden.     That 
Can  only  be  approved  by  proofs.     You  see — 

Stra.     {Again  interrvpting  him,  and   addressing   Ulric.) 
In  short,  I  was  asleep  upon  a  chair. 
My  cabinet  before  me,  with  my  purse 
Upon  it,  (containing  more  than  I  much  like  to  losej 
Well,  some  ingenious  person 
Contrived  to  glide  through  all  my  own  attendants, 
Besides  those  of  the  palace,  and  bore  away  with 
A  hundred  golden  ducats,  which  to  find 
1  would  be  fain,  and  there's  an  end  ;  perhaps 
You  fas  I  still  am  rather  faint, j  would  add 
To  yesterday's  great  obligation,  this. 
Though  slighter,  yet  not  slight,  to  aid  these  men 
^Who  seem  but  lukewarm)  in  recovering  it  ? 

Ulric.     Most  willingly,  and  without  loss  of  time — 


Scene  I.]  "vterner.  29 

(To  Idevslein.)     Come  hither,  Mynheer: 

Idfji.     But  so  much  liaste  bodes 
Rijiht  little  speed,  and — 

Uhic.     Standing  motionless 
I^one  ;  so  lei's  march,  we'll  talk  as  we  go  on, 

Jdrn.     But — 

Ulric.     Show  the  spot,  and  then  I'll  answer  yon. 

Frilz.  (  Comivg  down,  c.)  I  will,  sir,  with  his  excel] ency's 
leave. 

Stra.     Do  so,  and  take  yon  old  ass  with  you. 

Frilz.     Forward,  and  quickly. 

Ulric.     Come  on,  old  oracle,  expound  thy  riddle  ! 

{Exit  with  Idenslein  and  Fritz,  r. 

Sira.     A  stalwart,  active,  soldier-looking  stripling, 
And  with  a  brow  of  thougiit  beyoud  his  years. 
I  wish  I  could  engage  him  : 
I  have  need  of  some  such  spirits  near  me  now, 
For  this  inheritance  is  wortli  a  struggle. 
The  boy,  they  say's  a  bold  one  ; 
But  he  hath  played  the  truant,  leaving  fortune  to 
Champion  his  claims  :  that's  well.     Tlie  father,  whom 
For  years  I've  tracked,  as  does  the  bloodliound,  never 
In  sight,  but  constantly  in  scent,  had  put  me 
To  fault,  but  hire  I  have  him,  and  that's  better. 
It  must  be  he  !     All  circumstance  proclaims  it ; 
Yes  !  the  man,  his  bearing,  and  the  mystery 
Of  his  arrival,  and  the  time. 
All,  all  confirm  it  1     In  a  few  hours, 
Tlie  order  comes  from  Frankfort,  if  these  waters 
Rise  not  the  higher,  (and  the  weather  favors 
Their  quick  abatement,)  and  I'll  have  him  safe 
Within  a  dungeon,  where  he  may  avouch 
His  real  estate  and  name  ;  and  there's  no  harm  done, 
Should  he  prove  other  than  1  deem. 

Enter  Gabor,  l. 

Friend,  how  fare  you  ? 

Gabor.     As  those  who  fare  well  everywhere,  when  they 
Have  supped  and  slumbered,  no  great  matter  how — 
I  came  here  to  seek  you. 

Your  couriers  are  turned  back — I  have  outstripped  them 
In  my  return. 


80  WERNER.  [Act  II. 

Slra.     You  !— Why  ? 

Gabor.     I  went  at  daybreak 
To  watch  for  the  abatement  of  the  river, 
As  being  anxious  to  resume  my  journey, 
You  messengers  were  all  checked  like  myself  ; 
And,  seeing  the  case  hopeless,  I  await 
The  current's  pleasure. 

Stra.     Would  the  dogs  were  in  it  ! 
Why  did  they  not,  at  least,  attempt  the  passage  ? 
I  ordered  this  at  all  risks.     I  must  see  to  it  :       [Crosses,  r>. 
The  knaves  !  the  slaves  ! — but  they  shall  smart  for  this. 

[Exit,  L. 

Gabor.     There  goes  my  noble,  feudal,  self-willed  baron  1 
Yesterdny  he  would  have  given 
Uis  land^;,  fif  he  had  any,)  for  as  much  fresh  air 
As  would  have  filled  a  bladder, 
And  now  he  storms  at  half  a  dozen  wretches 
Because  thoy  love  their  lives,  too  !     Yet  he's  right  : 
'Tis  strauge  they  should,  when  such  as  he  may  put  them 
To  hazard  at  his  pleasure.     Oh  !  thou  world  ! 
Thou  art  indeed  a  melancholy  jest  !  [Exit,  l. 

Scene  II. —  TJie  Aparlmtnt   of    Werner  in  the  Palace. —  Ta- 
ble and  Chair. 

Josephine  mid  Ulric  discovered. 

Jos.  (Bises.)  Stand  back,  and  let  me  look  on  thee  againl 
My  Ulric  ! — my  beloved! — can  it  be — 
Alter  twelve  years  'i 

Ulric.     jSly  dearest  mother] 

Jos.     Yes  1 
lAy  dream  is  realized — how  beautiful — 
Uow  more  than  all  I  sighed  for  !     Heaven  receive 
A  mother's  thanks  ! — a  mother's  tears  of  joy  ! 
This  is  indeed  thy  work  ! — At  such   an  hour,  too, 
He  comes  not  only  as  a  son,  but  saviour. 

Ulric.     If  such  a  joy  await  me,  it  must  double 
What  I  now  feel,  and  lighten  from  my  heart 
A.  part  of  the  long  debt  of  duty,  not 
Of  love,  (for  that  was  ne'er  with  held  j — forgive  me  1 
This  long  delay  was  not  my  fault. 

Jos.     I  know  it, 


Scene  II.]  werxer.  31 

But  cannot  think  of  sorrow  now,  and  doabt 

If  I  e'er  felt  it. 

My  son  I  (Seeing  Werner,  crosses  to  him. 

Enter  Werner,  r.  s.  e. 

Wer.     What  have  we  here,  more  strangers  ? 

Jos.     No  ! 
Look  upon  him  !     What  do  you  see  ? 

Ifer.     A  stripling, 
For  the  first  time —  (Crosses  to  kirn. 

Ulric.    (Kneeling.)     For  twelve  long  years,  my  father  ! 

Wer.  Oh  1  (Falls — Ulric  catches  him  in  his  arms  and 
assists  Josephine  to  place  him  in  a  chair  which  she  has 
rapidly  moved  down  to  him. 

Jos.     He  faints  1  • 

Wer.     No — I  am  better  now — 
Ulric  !  (Embraces  him. 

Ulric.     My  father,  Siegendorf  ! 

Wer.     ( Starting  up.)     Hush  1  boy — 
The  walls  may  hear  that  name  ! 

Ulric.     What  then  ? 

Wer.     Why,  then— 
But  we  will  talk  of  that  anon.     Remember, 
I  must  be  known  here  but  as  Werner.     Come  I 
Come  to  my  arms  again  !     Josephine  1 
Sure  'tis  no  father's  fondness  dazzles  me  ; 
But  had  I  seen  that  form  amid  ten  thousand 
Youth  of  the  choicest,  my  heart  would  have  chosen 
This  for  my  son  I  [^Josephine  crosses  behind  toL.  of  Ulrie, 

Are  you  aware  my  father  is  no  more  ? 

Ulric.     Oh,  heavens  !  I  left  him  in  a  green  old  age. 
'Twas  scarce  three  months  since. 

Wer.     Why  did  you  leave  him  ? 

Jos.     (Embracing  Ulnc. )     Can  you  ask  that  questioa  ? 
Is  he  not  here  7 

Wer.    True  ;  he  hath  sought  his  parents. 
And  found  them  ;  but,  oh  !  hoiv,  and  in  what  state  ! 

Ulric.     All  shall  be  bettered.     What  we  have  to  do 
Is  10  proceed,  and  to  assert  our  rights. 

Wer.    Have  you  not  heard  of  Stralenheim  1 

Ulric.    1  saved 
nis  life  bat  yesterday  :  he's  hero. 


82  WERNER.  [Act  II, 

Wer.    You  saved 
The  serpent  who  will  sting  us  all  1 

Ulric.     You  spoak 
RiddFes  :  what  is  this  Stralenheim  to  ns  ? 

Wer.     Everything.     One  who  claims  our  father's  lands  : 
Our  distant  kingsman,  and  our  nearest  foe. 

Ulric.     I  never  heard  his  name  till  now — and  what  then  ? 
His  right  must  yield  to  ours. 

Wer.     Ay,  if  at  Prague  : 
But  here  he  is  all  powerful  ;  and  has  spread 
Snares  for  thy  father. 

Ulric.     Doth  he  personally  know  you  ? 

Wer.     No  ;  but  he  guesses  shrewdly  at  my  person, 
As  he  betrayed  last  night  :  and  I,  perhaps, 
But  owe  my  temporary  liberty 
To  his  uncertainty. 

Ulnc.     I  thick  you  wrong  him, 
CExcuse  me  for  the  phrase  ;)  but  Stralenheim 
Is  not  what  you  prejudge  him,  or,  if  so, 
He  owes  me  something  both  for  past  and  present  : 
I  saved  his  life,  he  therefore  trusts  in  me  ; 
He  hath  been  plundered  too,  since  he  came  hither  ; 
Is  sick  ;  a  stranger  ;  and  as  such  not  now 
Able  to  trace  the  villain  who  hath  robbed  him  : 
I  have  pledged  myself  to  do  so  ;  and  the  business 
Which  brought  me  here  was  chiefly  that  :  but  I 
Have  found,  in  searching  for  another's  dross, 
My  own  whole  treasure — you,  my  parents  ! 

Wer.     (Agitatedly.)     Who  taught  you  thus  to  brand  an 
unknown  being 
With  the  name  of  villain  ? 

Ulric.     My  own  feelings 
Taught  me  to  name  a  ruffian  from  his  deeds. 

Wer.    Who  taught  you,  long  sought,  and  ill-found  boy  I 
that 
It  would  be  safe  for  my  own  son  to  insult  me  ? 

Ulric.     I  named  a  villain.     What  is  there  in  common 
With  such  a  being  and  my  father  ? 

Wer.     Everything  1 
That  ruffian  is  thy  father  ? 

Jos.     (Rushing  up  to  Werner.)  Oh,  my  son  I 
Believe  him  not — and  yet  ! — 


Scene  IL]  ■werner.  33 

[Her  mice  falters,  and  she  hursts  into  tears   as  she  pas- 
ses hehivd,  r. 
Ulric.     ( Starts,  looks   earnestly  at  TVer7ier,  and  then  says 

slowly.)     And  yon  avow  it? 
Wer.     Ulric,  before  you  dare  despise  your  father, 
Learn  to  divine  and  judj^e  his  actions.     Young, 
Rasli,  new  to  life,  and  reared  in  hi.xury'slap, 
Is  it  for  you  to  measure  passion's  force, 
Or  misery's  temptation  ?     Wait — f  not  lonjr. 
It  cometh  like  the  niglit,  and  quickly; — Wait  ! — 
Wait  till,  like  me,  your  hopes  are  blighted — till 
Sorrow  and  shame  are  handmaids  of  your  cabin  ; 
Famine  and  poverty  your  guests  at  table  ; 
Despair  your  bed-fellow — then  rise,  but  not 
From  sleep,  and  judge  !     Should  the  day  e'er  arrive — 
Should  you  see  then  the  serpent  who  hath  coiled 
Himself  around  all  that  is  dear  and  noble 
Of  you  and  yours,  lie  slumbering  in  your  path, 
With  but  his  folds  between  your  steps  and  happiness 
When  he,  who  lives  but  to  tear  from  your  name, 
Lands,  life  itself,  lies  at  your  mercy,  with 
Chance  your  conductor  ;  midnight  for  your  mantle  ; 
The  bare  knife  in  your  hand,  and  earth  asleep, 
Even  to  your  deadliest  foe  ;  and  he  as  'twere 
Inviting  death  by  looking  like  it,  while 
His  death  alone  can  save  you  : — Thank  your  God  ! 
If,  then,  like  me,  content  with  petty  plunder, 
You  turn  aside — I  did  so.  \_Drojps  into  a  chair 

in  ic.     But— 

Wer.     (Abruptly.)     Hear  me  I 
I  will  not  brook  a  human  voice — scarce  dare  - 
Listen  to  ray  own  (if  that  be  human  still j — 
Hear  me  !  you  do  not  know  this  man — 1  do. 
He's  mean,  deceitful,  avaricious.     You 
Deem  yourself  safe,  as  young  and  brave  ;  but  learn 
Kone  are  secure  from  desperation,  few 
From  subtlety.     He  was  within  my  power — 
I'm  now  in  his  : — are  you  not  so  ? 
Who  tells  you  that  he  knows  you  not  1     Who  says 
He  bath  not  lured  you  here  to  end  you  ?  or 
To  plunge  you,  with  your  parents,  in  a  dungeon  ? 

{^Panses. 


34  WERNER.  [Act  II. 

TJlrii:.     Proceed — proceed  ! 

Wer.     Me  he  luitli  ever  known, 
And  hunted   through   each   change  of    time — name — for- 
tune— 
And  why  not  yoib  ?     Are  you  more  versed  in  men  ? 
He  wound  snares  round  me  ;    flung  along  my  path 
Reptiles,  whom,  in  ray  youth,  I  would  have  spurned 
Even  from  my  presence  ;    but,  in  spurning  now, 
Fill  only  with  fresh  venom.     Will  you  be 
More  patient  ?     Poverty — insult — chains — 
My  birthright  seized — while  my  despairing 
Wife — could  you  endure  all  this  ? 
Ulric  1 — Ulric  ! — there  are  crimes 
Made  venial  by  the  occasion,  and  temptations 
Which  nature  cannot  master  or  forbear. 

\_Crosses,  k.  and  hack. 

Ulric.     (Look  first  at   him,  and  then  at   Josepnine.)     My 
mother  ! 

IVer.     Ay  !   I  thought  so  :   you  have  now 
Only  one  parent.     I  have  lost  alike 
Father  and  son,  and  stand  alone. 

[Rushes  out  of  the  chamber,  l. 

Ulric.     (Following.)     But  stay ! 

Jos.     Follow  him  not,  until  this  storm  of  passion 
Abates.     Think'st  thou  that  were  it  well  for  him 
I  had  not  followed  ? 

Ulric.     I  obey  you,  mother, 
Although  reluctantly.     My  first  act  shall  not 
Be  one  of  disobedience. 

Jos.     Oh  !   he  is  good  1 
Condemn  him  not  from  his  own  mouth,  but  trust 
To  me,  who  have  borne  so  much  with  him,  and  for  him, 
That  this  is  but  the  surface  of  his  soul. 
And  that  the  depth  is  rich  in  better  things. 
Alas  !  long  years  of  grief 
Have  made  him  sometimes  thus. 

Ulric.     Explain  to  me 
More  clearly,  then,  these  claims  of  Stralenheim, 
That,  when  I  see  the  subject  in  its  bearings, 
I  may  prepare  to  face  him,  or  at  least. 
To  extricate  you  from  your  present  perils. 
1  pledge  myself  to  accomplish  this — but  would 


SCEVE   IL]  WERXER  35 

I  had  arrived  a  few  hours  sooner  I 
Jos.     Hadst  thou  but  done  so  ! 

Enter  Gabor  and  Idenstein,  with  six  Attendants,  l. 

Gabor.     (To  Ulric.)     I  have  sought  you,  comrade. 
So,  this  is  my  reward  I 

Ulric.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Gabor.     'Sdeath  1  have  I  lived  to  these  years,  and  for 
this  ! 
(  To  Idenslein.)     But  for  your  age  and  folly,  I  would — 

Men.      (l.  corner.)      Help  ! 
Hauds  off  !     Touch  an  Intendant ! 

Ulric.     Unriddle  this  vile  wrangling,  or — 

Guhor.     At  once,  then, 
The  baron  has  been  robbed,  and  upon  me 
This  worry  personage  has  deigned  to  fix 
His  kind  suspicions — me  I  whom  he  ne'er  saw 
Till  yester'  evening. 
You  hound  of  malice  !  [  -Seizes  Idmstdn. 

Ulric.     (Interfering. )     Nay,  no  violence  . 
He's  old,  unarmed — be  temperate,  Gabor  ! 

Gabor.     (Letting  go  Idenslein.)     True  : 
I  am  a  fool  to.  lose  myself  because 
Fools  deem  me  knave  :  it  is  tlieir  homage. 

Ulric.     (  To  Idenslein,  touching  his  shoulder.)     How 
Fare  you  ? 

Ideii.     Help ! 

Ulric.     I  have  helped  you. 

Ide7i.     Kill  him,  then  ! 
I'll  say  so. 

Gabor.     I  am  calm — live  on  ! 

Iden.     That's  more 
Than  you  shall  do,  if  there  be  judge  or  judgment 
In  Germany.     The  baron  shall  decide  ! 
~  Gabor.     Does  he  abet  you  in  your  accusation  ? 

Iden.     Does  he  not  ? 

Gabor.     Then,  next  time  let  him  go  sink 
Ere  I  go  hang  for  snatching  him  from  drowning. 
But  here  he  comes  ! 

Enter  Stralexheim,  l. 
(Goes  up  to  him.)    My  noble  lord,  I'm  here  I 


36  WERNEB.  ]ACT  II, 

Stra.     Well,  sir  I 

Gnbor.     TIave  you  auglit  with,  mc? 

Stra.     What  should  I 
Have  with  you  ? 

Gabor.     You  know  best,  if  yesterday's 
Flood  has  not  washed  away  your  memory  ; 
But  that's  a  trifle.     I  stand  here  accused, 
In  phra-;es  not  equivocal,  by  yon 
Intendant,  of  the  pillage  of  your  person, 
Or  chamber — is  the  charge  your  own,  or  bis  ? 

Stra.     I  accuse  no  man. 

Gdhor.     Tlien  you  acquit  me,  baron  ? 

Stra.     I  know  not  whom  to  accuse,  or  to  acquit, 
Or  scarcely  to  suspect. 

Gdhor.     But  you,  at  least, 
Should  know  whom  not  to  suspect.     I  am  insulted — 
I  demand  of  you 

Justice  upon  your  unjust  servants,  and 
From-your  own  lips  a  disavowal  of 
All  sanction  of  their  insolence. 

Stra.     (WUk  contemptuous  indifference.)     You 
Are  hot,  sir.  [  Crosses,  r. 

Gabor.     JNIust  I  turn  an  icicle 
Before  the  breath  of  menials,  and  their  master  ? 

Stra.     Ulric  !  yoa  know  this  man  ;  I  found  him  m 
Your  company. 

Gabor.     We  found  you  in  the  Oder  • 
Would  we  had  left  you  there  ! 

Stra.     I  give  you  thanks,  sir. 
TJlric,  you  know  this  man? 

Gabor.     No  more  than  you  do, 
If  he  avouches  not  my  honor. 

Ulric.     I 
Can  vouch  your  courage,  and,  as  far  as  my 
Own  brief  connexion  led  me,  honor. 

Stra.     Then, 
I'm  satisfied. 

Gabor.     {Ironically.)     Right  easily,  methink 
What  is  the  spell  in  his  asseveration 
More  than  in  mine  ? 

Stra.     I  merely  said  that  I 
Was  satisfied — not  that  you  were  al)solved. 


Scene  I.]  werner.  31 

If  general  supjMcion  be  against  you, 
Is  the  fiiult  mine? 

Gabor.     ]My  lord,  my  lord,  this  is  mere  cozenage, 
A  vile  equivocation  :  you  well  know 
Yo'ir  doubts  are  certainties  to  all  around  you — 
Your  looks  a  voice — your  frowns  a  sentence  ;  you 
Are  practising  your  power  on  me — because 
You  have  it  ;  but  beware,  you  know  not  whom 
You  strive  to  tread  on. 
Stra.     Tlireat'st  thou  ? 
Gabor.     Kot  so  much 
As  you  accuse.     You  hint  the  basest  injury, 
And  I  retort  it  with  an  open  warning. 

&tra.     As  you  have  said,  'tis  true,  I  owe  you  something, 
For  which  you  seem  disposed  to  pay  yourself. 
Gabor.     Not  with  your  gold. 
Stra.     Witli  bootless  insolence. 
(To  his  Attendo.nts  and  Idcnslcin.)     You  need  not  further 

to  molest  this  man, 
But  let  him  go  his  way.     Ulric,  good-morrow  1 

l_£xit  Straknheim,  Idenslein  and  Attendants,  R.  s.  S. 
Gabor.     (Folknring.)     I'll  after  him,  and — 
TJlric.     (Stopping  him.)     Not  a  step. 
Gabor.     Who  shall 
Oppose  me  ? 

Ulric.     Your  own  reason,  with  a  moment's 
Thought. 

Gabor.     ;Must  I  bear  to  be  deemed  a  thief  ?    If  'twere 
A  bandit  of  the  woods,  I  could  have  borne  it — 
There's  something  oaring  in  it — but  to  steal 
The  monies  of  a  slumbering  man  I — 

Ulric.     It  seems,  then. 
You  are  not  guilty  ? 

Gabor.     Do  I  hear  aright  ? 
You  too  ! 

Ulric.     I  merely  asked  a  simple  question. 
Gabor.     If    the  judge    asked    me — I    would    answer, 
"  No"— 
To  you  I  answer  thtis.  [Draws  and  rushes  on  him, 

Ulric.     (Drawing.)     With  all  my  heart  1 
Jos.     Without,  there  1     Ha  I  help  !   help  1— Oh,  here's 
murder  1 


38  WERNER.  [Act  II 

[Gahor  and  Ulric fight. —  Gahor  is  disarmed  and  thrown 
into  R.  corner. 

Re-enter  Stralenheim,  Idexstein,  and  Attendants,  r.  s.  e. 

Jos.     (l.)     (Sinking    down.)     Oh  !    glorious    Ileaven  1 
He's  safe  1 

Stra.     (  To  Josephine.)     Who's  safe  ? 

Jos.     (l.)     Ay— 

Ulric.     (Interrupting  her  ivilh  a  stern  look,  and  turning 
aflerivards  to  Slralcn/ieivi.)     Bolh  ! 
Here's  no  great  harm  done.  [Jos.  retires  bach,  L, 

Stra.     "What  hath  caused  all  this  ? 

Ulric.      You,  Baron,  I  believe  ;  but  a^  the  effect 
Is  harmless,  let  it  not  disturb  you  — Gabor  ! 
There  is  your  sword  ;  and  when  you  bare  it  next, 
Let  it  not  be  against  yonr  friends  ! 

IPronoimces  the  last  icords  slowly  and  emphatically  in  a 
low  voice  to  Gahor. 

Gahor.     (Taking  sword.)     I  thank  you, 
Less  for  ray  life  tiian  for  your  counsel. 

Sera.     (  Very  imperiously.)     These 
Brawls  must  end  here. 

Gabor.     (Sheathing  his  sivord.)     They  shall.     You  have 
wronged  me,  tJh'ic. 
More  with  your  unkind  thoughts  than  sword ; 
I  could  have  borne  yon  noble's 
Absurd  insinuations — 

But  I  may  fit  him  yet : — you  have  vanquished  me. 
We  may  meet  by  and  by, 
However — but  in  friendship.  [Exit,  l. 

Stra.     (  Cross>is,  c. )     I  will  brook 
No  more  1     This  outrage  following  up  his  insults — - 
Intendant !  take  your  measures  to  secure 
Yon  fellow  ;  I  revoke  my  former  lenity. 
He  shall  be  sent  to  Frankfort  with  an  escort 
The  instant  that  the  waters  have  abated. 

Iden.     (-R.)     Secure  him  !  he  hath  got  his  sword  agaiu — 
And  seems  to  know  the  use  on't ;  'tis  his  trade 
Belike:  I'm  a  civilian. 

Stra.     Fool !  are  not 
Yon  herd  of  vassals  dogging  at  your  heels 
Enough  to  seize  a  dozeu  such  ?    Hence  1  after  him  I 


Scene  XL]  werner,  39 

Ulric.     Baron,  I  do  beseech  you  ! 
Strn.     I  must  l)c 
Obeyed!     No  words  !  [Strahnhdm  and  Ulric  retire  up. 

Ide.n.     Well,  if  it  must  be  so — 
March  vassals  !     I'm  your  leader — and  will  bring 
Tlie  rear  up  :  a  wise  general  never  should 
Expose  his  precious  life — on  which  all  rests. 
I  like  that  ariicle  of  war. 

\_ETit.  Idcnstcin  awl  Atkndants,  h. 
Stra.     (Looking  cautiously  round,  sees  Josephine,  n.) 
Come  hither, 

Ulric: — what  does  that  woman  here?     Oh  1  now 
I  recognize  her,  'tis  the  stranger's  wife 
Whom  they  name  "Werner." 
Ulric.     'Tis  his  name, 
Stra.     Indeed  1 
Is  not  your  husband  visible,  fair  dame  ? — 
Jos.     Who  seeks  him  ? 

Stra.     (Half  aside.)    No  one — for  the  present :  but 
I  fain  would  parley,  Ulric,  with  yourself 
Alone. 

Ulric.     I  will  retire  with  you. 
J^s.     (r.)     Not  so. 
You  are  the  latest  stranger,  and  command 
All  places  here. 

(Aside  to  Ulric  as  she  goes  out.)  Oh  !  Ulric,  have  a  care — 
Remember  what  depends  on  a  rash  word  ! 

Ulric.     Fear  not ! —  [Exit  Joicphim,  u 

Stra.     Ulric,  I  think  that  I  may  trust  you  ? 
You  saved  my  life — and  acts  like  these  beget 
Unbounded  confidence. 
Ulric.     Say  on. 
Stra.     Tliis  "  Werner"— 
With  the  false  name  and  habit, 
If  he  be  the  man  I  deem, 
Must  be  made  secure  ere  twelve  hours  further. 
Ulric.     And  what  have  I  to  do  with  this  ? 
Stra.     1  have  sent 
To  Frankfort,  to  the  governor,  my  friend — • 
(I  have  the  authority  to  do  so  by 
An  order  of  the  house  of  Brandenburgh,) 
For  a  fit  escort — but  this  cursed  flood 


4d  WERKER.  [Act  II. 

Bars  all  access  ;  and  may  do  so  for  some  hours. 

Ulric.     It  is  abating. 

Stra      That  is  well. 

Ulric.     But  how 
Am  I  concerned  ? 

Stra.     As  one  who  did  so  much 
For  me,  you  cannot  be  indifferent  to 
Tliat  wliicli  is  of  more  import  to  me  than 
The  life  you  rescued — keep  your  eye  on  him  ! 
The  man  avoids  me,  knows  that  I  now  know  him — 
Watch  him  ! — as  you  would  watch  the  wild  boar  when 
He  makes  against  you  iu  the  hunter's  gap — 
Like  him,  he  must  be  speared. 

Ulric.     Why  so  ? 

Stra.     lie  stands 
Between  me  and  a  brave  inheritance  I 
Oh  !  could  you  see  it  !     But  you  shall 

Ulric.     I  hope  so. 

Stra.     It  is  the  richest  of  the  rich  Bohemia  I 
Unscathed  by  scorching  war. 
Ay — could  you  see  it,  you  would  say  so — but. 
As  I  have  said,  you  shall. 

Ulric.     I  accept  the  omen. 

Stra.     Then  claim  a  recompense  from  it  and  me. 

Ulric.     And  this  sole,  sick,  and  miserable  wretch — 
This  way-worn  stranger — stands  between  you  and 
This  Paradise  ? — (Aside.)     As  Adam  did  between 
The  devil  and  his.  — 

Stra.     He  doth. 

Ulric.     Hath  he  no  right  ? 

Stra.  Right !  none  !  A  disinherited  prodigal, 
Who  for  these  twenty  years  disgraced  his  liueage 
In  all  his  acts — but  chiefly  by  his  marriage. 

Ulric     They  are  childless,  then? 

Stra.     There  is  or  was  a  bastard. 
Whom  the  old  man — the  graudsire  (as  old  Age 
Is  ever  doting)  took  to  warm  his  bosom. 
As  it  went  chilly  downward  to  the  grave  : 
Bnt  the  imp  stniids  not  in  my  path — he  has  fled, 
Is'o  one  knows  whither  ;  and,  if  he  had  not, 
His  claims  alone  were  too  contemptible 
To  stand. — Why  do  you  smile? 


SCE.VE    II.]  WERNER.  41 

Ulric.     At  j'our  vain  fears  : 
A  poor  man  almost  in  his  grasp — a  child 
OC  doubtful  birth — can  startle  a  grandee  I 

Stra.     All's  to  be  fear'd  where  all's  to  be  gain'd. 

Vlric.     True  ;  and  ought  done  to  save  or  to  obtain  it. 

Slra.     You  have  harp'd  the  very  string  next  to  n.  ^  heart  I 
I  may  depend  upon  you  ? 

Ulric.     'Twere  too  late 
To  doubt  it. 

*S7?-rt.     Let  no  foolish  pity  shake 
Your  bosom,  (Tor  the  appearance  of  the  man 
Is  pitiful j — 

Ue  sure  you'll  keep  an  eye  on  this  man. 
And  let  me  know  his  slightest  movement  towards 
Concealment  or  escape  ! 

Ulrc.     You  may  be  sure 
You  yourself  could  not  watch  him  more  than  I 
Will  be  his  sentinel. 

Slra.     By  this  you  make  me 
Yours  and  forever. 

Ulric.     Such  is  in  my  intention.  [^Exeunt,  B 

END    OP   ACT   IL 


ACT    III. 

Scene  T. — A  Hull  in  the  same  Palace,  from  whence  the  Secret 
Passage  leads. 

Enter  Werner,  d.  f.,  followed  by  Gabor  in  great  agitation, 

Gabor.     {Looking  anxiously  to  D.  fJ     Sir,  I  have  told  my 
tale  ;  will  it  now  please  you 
To  give  me  refuge  for  a  few  hours. 

Wer.     How 
Can  I,  so  wretched,  give  to  misery 
A  shelter  ? — wanting  such  myself  as  much 
As  e'er  the  haunted  deer  a  covert — 

Gabor.     Or 


42  WERNER.  [Act  III. 

The  wounded  lion  his  cool  cave.     Methinks 
You  rather  look  like  one  would  turn  at  bay, 
And  rip  the  hunter's  entrails 

IVer.     Ah  I 

Gabor.     I  care  not 
If  it  be  so,  being  much  disposed  to  do 
The  same  myself  ;  but  will  you  shelter  me  ? 
I  am  oppress'd  like  you — and  poor  like  you — 
Dis<rraced — 

Wer.     (Abruptly.)     Who  told  you  that  I  was  digraced  ? 

Gabor.     No  one  ;  nor  did  I  say  you  were  so  :  with 
Your  poverty  my  likeness  ended  ;  but 
I  said  I  was  so — and  would  add,  with  truth, 
As  undeservedly  as  you. 

Wer.     Again 
As  I! 

Gabor.     Or  any  other  honest  man. 
"What  the  devil  would  you  have  ?     You  don't  believe  me 
Guilty  of  this  base  theft  ? 

Wer.     No,  no,  I  cannot. 

Qabor.     It  is  but  a  night's  lodging  which  I  crave  ; 
To  morrow  I  will  try  the  waters, 
Trusting  that  they  have  abated. 

Wer.     Abated  ?     Is  there  hope  of  that  ? 

Gabor.     There  was 
At  noontide. 

Wer.     Then  we  may  be  safe. 

Gabor.     Are  you 
In  peril  ? 

Wer.     Poverty  is  ever  so. 

Gabor.     That  I  know  by  long  practice. 
(A  noise,  heard  without )  But  hark  !  they  come  ! 

\_Rvjshes  ii,p  and  bolls  door, 

Wer.     Who  come  ? 

Gabor.     The  iuteudant  and  his  man  hounds  after  me  : 
I'd  face  them — but  it  were  in  vain  to  expect 
Justice  at  hands  like  theirs.     Where  shall  I  go  ? 
But  show  me  any  place.     I  do  assure  you, 
If  there  be  faith  in  man,  I  am  most  guiltless.      Think,  oh  1 
Think  if  it  were  your  own  case  I 

Wer.     Oh,  Heaven  1 
Thy  hell  is  not  hereafter! 


Scene  I.]  tverner.  43 

Gahor.     I  see  you're  moved,  and  it  shows  well  in  you  : 
I  may  live  to  requite  it. 

Wer.     Are  you  not 
A  spy  of  Stralenheim's  ? 

Galor.    I  am  his  deadliest  foo 

Wer.      You  ? 

Gahor.     After  such 
A  treatment  for  the  service  which  in  part 
I  rendered  him — I  am  his  enemy. 

Idenstein.     (Wilhout.)  Search  every  corner  I 

Gahor.     Hark  !  they  near  me.     JNIan — man  I 
If  you  are  not  his  friend  you  will  assist  me. 

Wer.     I  will. 

Gahor.     But  how  ? 

Ifer.     There  is  a  secret  spring  ; 
Remember,  I  discovered  it  by  chance, 
And  used  it  but  for  safety, 
It  leads  through  winding  walls,  to — to 
I  know  not  whither  you  must  not  advance  ! 
Give  me  your  word. 

Gahor.     It  is  unnecessary  : 
How  should  I  make  my  way  in  darkness, 

Wer.     Yes,  but  who  knows  to  what   place  it  may  lead  ? 
/know  not — fmark  you  ; — but  who  knows  it  might  not 
Lead  even  into  the  chambers  of  your  foe  ? 
You  must  not  advance 
Beyond  the  two  first  windings  ;  if  you  do 
(Albeit  I  never  pass'd  them,)  I'll  not  answer 
For  what  yon  may  be  led  to. 

Gnhor.     But  I  will. 
A  thousand  thanks  ! 

Idenstein.  (  Without,  d.f.)  He  must  be  in  the  hall !  Follow  ! 
follow  ! 

Wer.     (Opening  the  door.)  You'll  find  the   spring  more 
obvious 
On  the  other  side  ;  and,  when  you  would  return, 
It  yields  to  the  least  touch. 

Gahor.     (Rushes  in.)  Thanks  !  thanks  1 — farewell  ! 

[  Goes  in  hy  the  secret  paneL 

Wer.     What  have  I  done  ?     Alas  !  what  had  I  done 
Before  to  make  this  fearful  ?    Let  it  be 
Still  some  atonement  that  I  save  the  man, 


44  WERNER.  [Act  III. 

"Whose  RacriGce  have  saved  perhaps  my  own — 
They  come  !  to  seek  elsewhere  what  is  before  them  I 

[  Unbolls  D.  F. 

Eentcr  Idenstein  and  Attendants. , 

Lien.     Here  we  have  the  robber — here  he  is— 
Is  he  not  here  ?     lie  must  have  vanished  then  1 
He's  gone,  however. 

Wer.     Whom  do  you  seek  ? 

Idcn.     A  villain  ! 

Wcr.     Why  need  you  come  so  far,  then? 

Men.     In  tlie  search 
Of  him  who  robbed  the  baron. 
We  traced  him 

Up  to  this  hall  :  are  you  accomplices  ? 
It  may  be  I  have  a  question  or  two  for  yourself 
Hereafter  ;  but  we  must  continue  now 
Our  search  for  t'other. 

Wer.     You  had  best  begin 
Your  inquisition  now  ;  I  may  not  be 
So  patient  always. 

Iden.     I  should  like  to  know, 
In  good  sooth,  if  you  really  are  the  man 
That  Stralenheim's  in  quest  of  ? 

Wer.     Insolent  1 
Said  you  not  that  he  was  not  here? 

Iden.     Yes,  one  ; 
But  there's  another  whom  he  tracks  more  keenly, 
Bustle,  my  boys  !  we  are  at  fault. 

\_Exit  Idenstein  and  attendants,  D.  r, 

Wer.     In  what 
A  maze  hath  my  dim  destiny  involved  me  1 
And  one  base  sin  hath  done  me  less  ill  than 
The  leaving  undone  one  far  greater.     Down, 
Thou  busy  devil  rising  in  my  heart  ! 
Thou  art  too  late  !  I'll  nought  to  do  with  blood. 

Enter  Ulric,  e.  s.  e. — He  looks  cautiously  round. 

Ulric.     I  sought  you,  father 
Wer.     Is't  not  dangerous  ? 
Ulric.     No  ;  Stralenheim  is  ignorant  of  all 
Or  any  of  the  ties  between  us  :  more — 


SCEXE    I.]  WF.RXER.  45 

lie  sends  me  licro  a  spy  upon  your  actious, 
Deeming  me  wliolly  liis 

Wer.     1  cainiot  think  it : 
'Tis  but  a  snare  lie  winds  about  us  both, 
To  swoop  tlie  son  and  sire  at  once. 

Ulric.     I  cannot 
Pause  in  each  petty  fear  ; 
Nets  are  for  tlirushes,  eagles  are  not  caught  so  ; 
We'll  overtly,  or  rend  them. 

Wer.     Show  me  how. 

Ulric.     Can  you  not  guess  ? 

Wer.     1  cannot. 

Ulric.     (Pauses,  points  to  Baron^s   room  looks   intently  at 
Werner,  then  speaks.)  That  is  strange  ! 
Came  the  thought  ne'er  into  your  mind  last  mght  7 

Wer.     I  understand  you  not. 

Ulric.     Then  we  shall  never 
More  understand  each  other.     But  if  I  err  not, 
I  see  the  subject  no^v  more  clearly,  and 
Our  general  situation  iu  its  bearings, 
The  waters  are  abating  ;  a  few  hours 
Will  bring  his  summoned  myrmidons  from  Frankfort, 
When  you  will  be  a  prisoner,  perhaps  worse, 
And  I  an  outcast,  basterdized  by  practice 
Of  this  same  baron  to  make  way  for  him. 

Wer.     And  all  I  thought  to  escape, — rescuing  my  wife 
and  child 
By  means  ot  this  accursed  gold,  but  now 
I  dare  not  use  it,  show  it,  scarce  look  on  it. 

Ulric.     You  must  not  use  it,  at  least,  now  ;  but  take 
This  ring.  ]  He  gives  Werner  a  jewel. 

Wer.     A  gem  !  it  was  my  father's  1 

Ulric.     And 
As  such  is  now  your  own.     With  this  you  must 
Bribe  the  Intendant  for  his  i)ld  caleche 
And  horses  to  pursue  your  route  at  sunrise 
Together  with  my  mother. 

Wer.     And  what  becomes  of  you  1 
My  only  oue,  can  I  leave  you  1 
So  lately  found,  in  peril,  too  ? 

Ulric.  .  Fear  nithin'r  I 


46  VTERNER.  [Act  III. 

The  only  fonr  were,  if  \vc  fled  toj^ether  ; 
I'll  wait  a  day  or  two  wit!i  Stralciiheim  ; 
To  lull  all  doubts  and  then  rtjoiu  my  father. 
"When  you  gain 

A  few  hours'  start,  tlic  difiiculties  will  be 
The  8ame  to  your  pursuers.     Once  beyond 
The  frontier,  and  you're  safe. 

Wer.     JSIy  noble  boy  ! 
"What  were  my  lile  if  purchased 
By  your  loss  ? 

Ul/ic.     Hush  !  hush  !   no  transports  :  we'll  indulgo  in 
them 
In  Casile  Siegendorf  !     Display  no  gold  : 
Show  Jdenstein  the  gem  :  it  will  answer  thus 
A  doable  purpose.     Stralenheim  lost  gold — 
Ho  jewel  :  therefore  it  could  not  be  his. 

Wer.     ]My  boy  ! 
]\ry  friend — my  only  child,  and  sole  preserver  I 
Oh,  do  not  hate  me  1 

Ulnc.     Hate  my  father  ? 

We/:     Ay, 
My  father  hated  me.     Why  not  ray  son  ? 

Ulric.     Your  father  knew  you  not  as  I  do 

Wer.     Scorpions 
Are  m  thy  wonls  !     Thou  knew  me  ?  in  this  guise 
Thou  canst  not  know  me  ;  1  am  not  myself, 
Yet  (hate  me  not ),  I  will  be  soon. 

Ulnc.     I'll  wail !     But  let  us  talk 
Of  this  no  more.     Or  if  it  must  be  ever, 

Not  now. 
All  we  have  now  to  think  of,  is  to  baffle 
Him.     Seek  Jdenstein.     Farewell  !  [Going,  stojps» 

Would  Straleulieim's  appearance  in  Bohemia 
Disturb  your  right,  or  mine,  if  once  we  were 
Admitted  lo our  lands? 

Wer.     Assurely, 
Situate  as  we  are  now,  although  the  first 
Possessors  might,  as  usual,  pi'ove  the  strongest 
Especially  the  next  in  blood, 

Ulric.     Blood !  'tis 
A  word  of  many  meanings ;  in  the  veins 
And  out  of  them,  it  is  a  different  thing — 


SCENR   L]  WERNEB.  41 

Wer.     I  do  not  apprehend  yon. 

Ulnc.     Tliat  may  be — 
And  should,  ])er]ia|)s, — and  yet — but  get  yc  ready  ; 
You  and  my  mother  must  away  to-niglit. 
Here  comes  the  Iiitendaut  :  sound  him  with  the  gem. 
Farewell !  I  scarce  have  time,  but  yet  your  hand, 
My  father  !— 

Wer.     Let  me  embrace  thee  I 

Ulric.     "We  may  be  observed  : 
Keep  off  from  me  as  from  your  foe  I 
llereis  the  Intcudant. 

£nte)-  Idenstein,  d.  p. 

Master  Idenstein, 

How  fare  you  in  your  purpose?     Have  you  caught 

The  rogue  ? 

Idm.     No,  faith  ! 

Ulric.     Well  there  are  plenty  more  : 
Vou  may  have  better  luck  another  chase 
Where  is  the  baron  ? 

Iden.     H  left  him  .coinp:  to  his  chamber: 
And,  now  I  think  on't,  asking  after  you 
With  a  nobly-born  impatience. 

Ulric.     Your  great  men 
^lust  be  answered  on  the  instant,  so  I  must  take  leavf . 
Intendant, 
Your  servant  ! — Werner, — (To  ll^r.  slighlhj) — if  that  be 

your  name, 
Yonrs.  [Ezil,  Ulric,  d.  f. 

Ideji.     A  well-spoken,  pretty-faced  young  man  I 
And  prettily  behaved  !     He  knows  his  station  : 
You  see,  sir,  how  he  gave  to  each  his  due 
Precedence  ? 

Wer.     I  perceived  it  and  applaud 
His  just  discernment,  and  your  own. 

Iden.     That's  well — 
That's  very  well.     You  also  know  your  place,  too, 
And  yet  I  don't  know  that  I  know  your  place. 

Wer.     (Showing   the    ring.)       VVould   this  assist   your 
knowledge  ? 

Iden,     How  ?— What  ?— Eh  1 
A  jewel ! 


48  WERNER  [Act  III. 

Wer.     'Tis  your  own  on  one  condition. 

Iden.     iSline  ! — Name  it  ! 

Wir.     Tliat  hereafter  you  permit  me 
At  thrice  its  vahie  to  redeem  it  ;  'tis 
A  family  ring. 

Idcn.     A  family  I  yours  !  a  gem  ! 
I'm  breathless  1 

Wer.     Yon  must  also  furnish  me 
An  hour  ere  daybreak  with  all  means  to  quit 
This  place. 

Idm.     But  is  it  real  ?  let  me  look  on  it : 
Diamofid,  my  all  that's  glorious  ! 

Wer.     Come,  I'll  trust  you  : 
I  have  important  reasons 
lor  wishing  to  continue  privily 
My  journey  hence. 

Iden.     So  theii  you  are  the  man 
Whom  Stralenheim's  in  quest  of  ? 

Wer.     No  ! 

Iden.     Well,  well,  be  you  the  man  or  no,  'tis  not  my  bu- 
siness ; 
Besides,  I  never  should  obtain  the  half 
From  this  proud,  niggardly  noble  : 
But  this  !  another  look  ! 

Wer.     Gaze  on  it  freely  ; 
At  day-dawn  it  is  yours. 

Idcn.     Oh,  thou  svve^  sparkler  ! 
Thou  more  than  stone  of  tlie  philosopher  ! 
Thou  touchstone  of  Philosophy  herself  ! 
Shalt  thou  be  mine  ?     I  am,  methinks,  already 
A  little  king,  a  lucky  alchemist  ! — 
But  come,  Werner,  or  what  else  ? 

Wer.     Call  me  Werner  still : 
You  may  yet  know  me  by  a  loftier  title. 

Iden.     I  do  believe  in  thee  !  thou  shalt  be  as  free 
As  air,  despite  the  waters — Oh,  thou  jewel  1 
Thou  shalt  be  furnished,  Werner,  with  such  means 
Of  flight,  that  if  thou  wert  a  snail,  not  birds 
Should  overtake  thee. — Let  me  gaze  again  1 
I  have  a  foster-brother  in  the  mart 
Of  Hamburgh,  skilled  in  precious  stones — how  many 
Carats  may  it  weigh  1 — Come,  Werner,  I  will  wing  thee. 

lExeunt,  d.  w 


Scene  II.]  .   werner.  49 

Enter  Stralenheim  and  Fritz,  with  a  lamp. 

Sh-a.     What  is  the  hour  ? 

Fritz.     Fast  making  towards  midnij^lit,  I  think,  my  lord 

Stra.     In  six  hoars,  then,  the  guard  will  be  approachinp:. 
Call  me  betimes. 
Here,  take   my   cloak   and  sabre,     light  me  to  my  cham- 
ber. 

Fritz.     I  trust  to-morrow  will  restore  your  lordship  to 
health  and  spirits. 

<S'/ra.     I  trust  so,  too,  for  I  have  need  of  them. 
To-morrow  iinii  restore  me,  for  with  its  dawn 
The  escort  comes,  and  with  it  confidence 
And  peace.     The  interval  of  fate  is  all 
That's  left  to  Siegendorf.     The  key  that  locks 
His  dvngeon  grate  on  him,  opens  for  me 
The  portals  of  a  palace.     Poor  wretch  ! 
Lead  on.  Exeunt,  r.  s.  e. 

Scene  11.-^— The  Stzrct  Passage. 
Gabor  discovered. 

Gahor.     Four- 
Five — six  hours  have  I  counted,  like  the  guard 
Of  outposts  on  the  never-merry  clock  : 
I'm  cold — 

I'm  dark — I've  blown  my  fingers — numbered  o'er 
And  o'er  my  steps — and  knocked  my  head  against 
Some  fifty  buttresses — and  roused  the  rats 
And  bats  in  general  insurrection,  till 
Their  cursed  pattering  feet  and  whirring  wings 
Leave  me  scarce  hearing  for  another  sound. 
A  light  !     It  is  at  a  distance,  fif  I  can 
Measure  in  darkness  distance  :)  but  it  blinks 
As  through  a  crevice  or  a  key-hole,  in 
The  inhabited  direction  ;  I  must  on, 
Nevertheless  from  curiosity. 
Pray  heaven  it  lead  me 

To  nothing  that  may  tempt  me  !     Else — heaven  aid  me 
To  obtain,  or  to  escape  it  1     Shining  still  ! 
Were  it  the  star  of  Lucifer  himself, 
Or  he  himself  girt  with  its  beams,  I  could 


60  WERNER.  [Act  III, 

Contain  no  longer.     Softly  !     Let  me  pause. 

Sii|)|)0se  it  leads 

Into  some  {greater  danger  tlian  tliat  which 

I  have  escaped — no  matter, — I  will  on, 

And  be  it  where  it  may — I  have  my  dagger, 

AVliich  may  protect  me  at  a  pincli. — Burn  still, 

Tlion  little  light  !     Thou  art  my  ignis  futims  I 

So  !  so  ! 

He  hears  my  invocation,  add  fails  not. 

Ila  I  'tis  gone  ! — 

Ko,  'lis  there  !  'tis  there  again.  [Exil,  r. 

Scene  III. — A  Garden. — Palace  seen  on  L. —  A  practicable 
Terrace  projecting  from  it,  l.  3(Z  e. — River  and  distant 
country. 

Enter  Werner,  r.  s.  e. 

Wcr.     I  could  not  sleep  and  now  the  hour's  at  hand  ; 
All's  ready.     Idenstein  has  kept  his  word  : 
And,  for  the  last  time,  I 

Look  on  those  horrible  walls.     Oh  I  never,  neve 
Shall  I  forget  them.     Here  I  came  most  poor, 
But  not  dishonored  :  and  I  leave  them  with 
A  stain, — if  not  upon  my  name,  yet  in 
I^Iy  heart !     A  never-dying  canker-worm, 
Which  all  the  coming  splendor  of  the  lands. 
And  all  rights  and  sovereignty  of  Siegendorf, 
Can  scarcely  lull  a  moment  : 
The  madness  of  misery  led  to  this 
Base  infamy  ;  repentance  must  retrieve  it : 
Yet  he  would  grasp  all  of  mine  ; 
Lands,  freedom,  life  : — he  sleeps  !  as  soundly, 
Perhaps,  as  infancy.  \_Noise  within. 

Hark!  what  noise  is  that  ?     Again! 
The  branches  shake  ;  and  some  loose  stones  have  fallen 
From  yonder  terrace. 

UiP.ic  hups  doxcn  from  the  Terrace,  l  3^  E, 

TTlric  1  ever  welcome  I 

Thrice  welcome  now  !  this  filial— 

TJlric.     Stop  !  lu'fore 
We  approach,  tell  me — 


SCKNE  II.]  WERNEB.  fil 

Wer.     Whv  look  you  so  ? 

Ulric.     Bo  I 
Behold  ray  father,  or — 

Wer.     What  ? 

Ulric.     An  assassin  ? 
Keply,  sir,  as 
You  prize  your  life,  or  mine  ! 

iVer.     To  what  must  I 
Answer  ? 

Ulric.     Are  you  or  are  yon  not  the  assassin 
Of  Stralenheira  ? 

Wer.     What  mean  yon  ? 

Ulric.     Did  you  not  t/tis  night  (as  tlie  night  before) 
Retrace  the  secret  passage  ?     Did  you  not 
Again  revisit  Straleuheim's  chamber  ?  and — 

[  Uli'ic  pauses. 

Wer.     Proceed. 

Ulric.     Died  he  not  by  your  hand  ? 

Wer.     Great  Heaven  ! 

Ulric.     You  are  innocent,  then  !  my  father's  innocent  ! 
Embrace  me  !     Yes, — your  tone — your  look — yes,  yes — 
Yet  say  so ! 

Wer.     If  e'er,  in  heart  or  mind, 
Conceived  deliberately  such  a  thought, 
May  Heaven  be  sliut  for  ever  from  my  hopes, 
As  from  mine  eyes  ! 

Ulric.     But  Stralenheim  is  dead. 

Wer.     'Tis  horrible  1 

Ulrc.     No  bolt 
Is  forced  ;  no  violence  can  be  detected, 
Save  on  his  body.     Part  of  his  own  household 
Have  been  alarmed  ;  but  as  the  Intendaut  is 
Absent,  I  took  upon  myself  the  care 
Of  mustering  the  police.     His  chamber  has, 
Past  doubt,  been  entered  secretly.     Excuse  me, 
If  nature — 

Wer.     Oh,  my  boy  1  what  unknown  woe 
Of  dark  fatality,  like  clouds,  are  gathering 
Above  our   house.     Oh,  Stralenheim  !     now  I  feel  I  ncTcr 
shall  escape  you. 

Ulric.     My  father  1  I  acquit  you. 


52  WEKNER.  [Act  III. 

But  will  the  world  do  so  ?     Will  even  the  judge, 
If — but  you  must  away  this  instant. 

We,:     Ko  ! 
I'll  face  it.     Who  shall  dare  suspect  me  ? 

JJlric.     Yet 
You  had  no  guests — no  visitors — no  life 
Breathing  around  you,  save  my  mother's  ? 

iVer.     Ah  ! 
The  Hungarian  ! 

Ulric.     He  is  gone  !  he  disappeared 
Ere  sunset. 

Wer     No  ;  I  hid  him  in  that  very 
Concealed  and  fatal  gallery. 

Uliic.     There.  I'll  find  him.  [  JJlric  is  going  up,  l. 

Wtr.     It  is  too  late  :  he  had  left  the  palace  ere 
I  quitted  it.     I  found  the  secret  panel 
Open  ;  and  the  doors  which  led  from  that  hall 
Which  masks  it  :  I  but  thought  he  had  snatched  the  silent 
And  favorable  moment  to  escape 
The  myrmidons  of  Idenstein. 

Ulric.     You  re-closed 
The  panel  ? 

Wer.     Yes. 

Ulric.     You  are  sure  you  dosed  it  ? 

Wer.     Certain. 

Ulric.     That's  well  :  but  had  better  if 
You  ne'er  had  shelter  given  to  this  man. 

Wer.     Could  I  shun  it  ? 
A  man  pursued  by  my  chief  foe  ;  disgraced 
For  my  own  crime  ;  a  victim  to  my  safety, 
Imploring  a  few  hours'  concealment  from 
The  very  wretch  who  was  the  cause  he  needed 
Such  refuge.     Had  he  been  a  wolf  I  could  not 
Have,  in  such  circumstances,  thrust  him  forth. 

Ulric.     And  like  the  wolf  he  hath  repaid  you.     But 
It  is  too  late  to  ponder  this  :  you  must 
Set  out  ere  dawn.     Idenstein 
Will,  for  his  own  sake,  and  his  jewel's,  hold 
His  peace — he  also  is  a  partner,  in 
Your  flight — moreover — 

Wer.     i^'ly  1  and  leave  my  name 


SCEKE   II.]  WERNER.  69 

Linked  with  the  Hungarian's,  or  preferred  as  poorest, 
To  bear  the  brand  of  bloodshed  ? 

Vlric     Pshaw  !  leave  anything 
Except  our  fathers'  sovreiguty  and  castles. 
What  ruitnel    You  leave  no  nuvu,  since  that  you  bear 
Is  feigned. 

Wer.     Most  true  ;  but  still  I  would  not  have  it 
Engraved  in  crimson  in  men's  memories  ; 
Besides,  the  search — 

Ulric.     I  will  provide  against 
Aught  that  can  touch  you.    Jso  one  knows  you  here 
As  heir  of  Siegendorf. 
Sti'alenheim,  although  noble  is  unheeded 
Hire,  save  as  such — without  lands,  influence, 
Save  what  hath  perished  with  him  ; 
If  1  discover 

The  assassin,  'twill  be  well — if  not,  believe  me 
Kone  else  will. 

Wer.     Oh  !  could  the  power  and  wealth 
Of  Siegendorf  recall  him  from  the  grave  I 

Ulric.     And  if  it  could?  but  this  is  worse  than  idlw. 
In  two  short  hours  the  military  guard 
Must  come  from  t'rankfort,  perhaps,  even  while  we   speak, 
The  bloodhounds  gaze  upon  those  scenes, 

Wer.     My  son  ! 

Vlric.     Hence  1  hence  1     I  must  not  hear  your  answer — 
look  ! 
The  stars  are  almost  faded,  and  the  gray 
Begins  to  grizzle  the  black  hair  of  night. 
You  shall  not  answer. — Pardon  me,  that  I 
Am  peremptory,  'tis  your  son  that  speaks, 
Your  long-lost,  late-found  son. — Let's  call  my  mother  1 
Softly  and  swiftly  step,  and  leave  the  rest 
To  me. 

We'll  meet  in  Castle  Siegendorf — once  more 
Our  banners  shall  be  glorious  !     Think  of  that 
Alone,  and  leave  all  the  other  thoughts  to  me. 
Hence  ! 

And  may  your  age  be  happy  ! — I  will  kiss 
My  mother  once  more,  then  Heaven's  speed  be  with  you. 


64  WERNER.  [Act  IV. 

Wer.     Tliis  connspl's  safe — but  is  not  honorable? 
Ulric.     To  suve  a  father  is  a  child's  chief  houor. 

lExeunt. 

END    OF    ACT    III. 


A  CT    IT, 

Scene  I. — A  Gothic  Hall  in   the  Castle  of  Siegendorf,  near 
I^rague. 

Enter  Eric  and  Henrick,  Retainers  of  the  Count. 

Eric.     So  better  times  are  come  at  last :  to  these 
Old  walls,  new  masters  aud  high  wassail,  both 
A  loug  desideratum. 

Hea.     Meihiuks  the  old  Count  Siegendorf  maintained 
His  feudal  hospitality  as  high 
As  e'er  another  priuce  of  the  empire. 

Eric.     Why, 
For  the  mere  cup  and  trencher,  we,  no  doubt, 
Fared  passing  well. 

Hen.     The  old  count  loved  not 
The  roar  of  revel  :  are  you  sure  this  does  ? 

Eric.     As  you  hath  been  courteous  as  he's  bounteous, 
And  we  all  love  him 

Hen.     His  reign  is  as  yet 
Hardly  a  year  o'erpast  its  honeymoon, 
And  the  lirst  year  of  sovereigns  is  bridal ; 
Anon  we  shall  perceive  his  real  sway 
Aud  moods  of  mind. 

Enc     Why  doubt  the  present  I 
Then  bis  brave  son,  Count  Ulric — there's  a  knight  I 
Pity  the  wars  are  o'er  ! 

Hen.     If  war  be  long  in  coming,  he  is  of  that  kind 
Will  make  it  for  himself,  if  he  hath  not 
Already  done  as  much. 

Eric.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Hen.     You  can't  deny  his  train  of  followers 
Are  such  a  sort  of  knaves  as — (Fauses.) 

Eric.     What? 

Hen.    The  wars  (yoa  love  so  much)  leave  living. 


Score  T.l 

ErU.     E'zt  C'-.rnA 
What  has  all  iui^  to  do  with  Umt 

Htm.    Ton  aa  j  he's  food  of  war, 
Wbj  isakes  he  it  not  on  those  macniden? 

£^K^  Ulbic  aa<2  Bcoous, 

Good  iDOfTov,  Coont ! 

rZ/ic     Good  morrow,  wortfaj  Hesmdc    Eri^  k 
AJI  readj  for  tJie  diaae  ? 

fric    Yes,  mj  kxd,  tfae  dogs  are  ordered  ; 
What  coarser  will  joa  please  to  BMnnt  ? 

Writ    The  dan, 
Wabtein. 

£ric     He  diall  be  stndt  cqiariMB&i      E :  ^  :^'^i j 
Of  joor  immediate  r^anera  s&all 
Escort  yon? 

l?Zri£L    I  leaTe  tiiai  to  Weabns^  ocr 
Master  of  the  bnse.  [JEbu  E-rvL. 

Rodolpht 

Bod^    Mjkxd! 

Ulric.    The  news 
Is  avkwazd  firon  the— f£^da^fMa2«  te  SaaridL) 
How  BOW,  Hemid:,  wh  j 
Ixster  joo  here  ? 

Ba.    For  yon*  eaBOBBid^  Bf  lord. 

-;       rPcBiz^J  Go  toaij&theraadpreaBBiotf  dalf; 
A  1  ¥  he  worid  n^  with  se  before 

I  lEat^  Semritk,  l 

.  -i^r^^  hare  had  a  cheek 

UpuB  ifrc  :  '    ?f  Fmeaaia : 

To  excvse    : :  : :  tbe  eeotk  Jon  father. 

CEric.     J  ::ed  itate  of 

Im  W^fii  S  -   ~  ^  13  i^r,TF=r 


5(5  WERNER.  [Act  IV. 

To  oar  force,  with  you  and  Wolffe,  as  herald  of 
My  coming,  though  I  could  but  spare  them  ill 
Until  this  marriage,  and  its  feasts  and  fooleries, 
Are  rung  out  with  its  peal  of  nuptial  nonsense. 

Rodolph.     I  thought  you  loved  the  lady  Ida  ? 

TJlric.     Why, 
I  do  so — but  I  have  not  the  time  to  pause 
Upon  these  gewgaws  of  the   heart.      {Crosses,  l.)  Great 

things 
We  have  to  do  ere  long.     Speed  !  speed  !  good  Rodolph. 

Rodolph.     On  my  return,  however,  I  shall  find 
The  Baroness  Ida  lost  in  Countess  Siegendorf. 

Ulric.       Perhaps. 

Rodolph.     Adieu  1 

Ulric.    Yet  hold — we  had  better  keep  together 
Until  the  chase  begins  ;  then  draw  thou  off, 
And  do  as  I  have  said. 

Rodolph,     Ah  !  here's  the  lady  Ida. 

Enter  Ida  Stkalenheim,  t. 

Ulric.    You  are  early,  my  sweet  cousin. 

Ida.     Not  too  early. 
Dear  Ulric,  if  I  do  not  interrupt  you. 
Why  do  you  call  me  "  Cousin  ?" 

Ulric.     (Smiling.)  Are  we  not  so  ? 

Ida.     Yes  ;  but  I  do  not  like  the  name  ;  methinks, 
It  sounds  so  cold. 

Ulric.    Nay,  then,  I'll  call  you  sister. 

Ida.     1  like  that  name  still  worse — would  we  had  ne'er 
Been  aught  of  kindred  ! 

Ulric.     (Gloomily.)  Would  we  never  had  ! 

Ida.     Oh,  heaven  !  and  can  you  wish  thai  ? 

UJric.     Dearest  Ida  1 
Did  I  not  echo  your  own  wish  ? 

Ida.     Ay — call  me  Ida, 
Your  Ida,  for  I  would  be  yours,  none  else's — 
Indeed,  I  have  none  else  left,  since  my  poor  father — 

[  She  pauses. 

They  say  he  died  of  fever. 

Ulric.     Say  ! 
It  was  so 

Ida.    I  sometimes  dream  otherwise  ;— 


Scene  I.]  wernbr.  61 

See  him  as  I  see  you. 

Ulric.      Where? 

Ida.     In  my  dreams,  Ulric.     I  see  him  lie, 
Pale,  bleeding,  and  a  man  with  a  raised  knife 
Beside  him.     Is  it  not  fearful  to  wake  from  dreams  like 
this? 

Ulric.     (Agitatedly.)     It  is  ! — it  is  1 

Ida.     (Looking  at  him.)     You  are  not  well,  dear  Ulric  1 

Ulric.     Not  well  ? 

Ida.     The  signs  of  health  are  fading  from  your  cheek. 

Ulric.     (Agiiatedly.)     Ida,  this  is  mere  childishness. 

\_Bugk  sounds.  K. 

Rodolph.     Hark,  my  lord,  the  bugle  1 

Ida.     (Fea'ishly,  to  Rodoljph.)     Why  need  you  tell  him 
that  ? 
Can  he  not  hear  it  without  your  echo  ? 

Rodoljph.     Pardon  me,  fair  baroness  ! 

Ida.     I  will  not  pardon  you,  unless  you  earn  it 
By  aiding  me  in  my  dissuasion  of 
Count  Ulric  from  the  chase  to-day. 
Come,  dear  Ulric  !  yield  to  me 
In  this,  for  this  one  day  ;  the  day  looks  heavy, 
And  you  are  turned  so  pale  and  ill. 

Ulric.     You  jest. 

Ida.     Indeed  I  do  not  ; — ask  of  Rodolph. 

Rodolph.     Truly, 
My  lord,  within  this  quarter  of  an  hour 
You  have  changed  more  than  I  e'er  saw  you  change 
In  years. 

Ulric.     'Tis  nothing  ;  but  if  'twere,  the  air 
Would  soon  restore  me.     I'm  the  true  cameleon, 
And  live  but  on  the  atmosphere  ;  your  feasts 
In  castle  halls,  and  social  banquets,  nurse  not 
My  spirit — I'm  a  forester  and  breather 
Of  the  steep  mountain  tops,  where  I  love  all 
The  eagle  loves. 

Unler  Werner  as  Count  Siegendorf,  attended. 
My  father,  I  salute  you,  and  it  grieves  me 
With  such  brief  greeting. — You  have  heard  our  bugle : 
The  vassals  wait. 

Sieg.    So  let  them. — You  forget 


^  -WERNER.  [Act  IV. 

The  sacred  festival  in  Prague  for  peace  restored. 
Your  place  to-day  is  in  the  marshalled  ranks  of  all   our 
country's  nobles. 

Vine.     You,  count, 
Will  well  supply  the  place  of  both — I  am  not 
A  lover  of  these  pageantries. 

Sieg.     'So,  Ulric : 
It  were  not  well  that  you  alone  of  all 
Our  young  nobilit}' — 

Ida.     And  far  the  noblest 
In  aspect  and  demeanor. 

Sieg.     (To  Id a.^ Crosses  to  her.)     True,  dear  child, 
Thougli  somewhat  frankly  said  for  a  fair  damsel. — 
But,  Ulric,  recollect  too  our  position, 
So  lately  re-instated  in  our  honors. 
Believe  me,  'twould  be  marked  in  any  house, 
But  most  in  ours,  that  oiie  should  be  found  wanting 
At  such  a  time  and  place.     Besides,  the  Heaven 
Which  gave  us  back  our  own,  in  the  same  moment 
It  spread  its  peace  o'er  all,  hath  double  claims 
On  us  for  thansgiving  ;  first,  for  our  country. 
And  next,  that  we  are  here  to  share  its  blessings. 

Ulric.   (Aside.)   Devout,  too  ! — Well,  sir,  I  obey  at  once. 

[To  lienridc. 
Henrick,  dismiss  the  train  without !  [Exit  Henrick,  l. 

Sieg.     Ida, 
The  countess  waits  you  in  her  chamber.     She  complains 
That  you  are  a  sad  truant  to  your  music. 

Ida.     (Crosses,  l.)     Then,  good  morrow,  my  kind  kins- 
men ! 
Ulric,  you'll  come  and  hear  me  ? 

Ulric.     By-and-bye. 

Ida.     But  come  quickly  ; 
Your  mother  will  be  impatient  till  she  sees  you. 

[Exit  Ida. 

Sieg.     Ulric,  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  alone. 

Ulric.     My  time's  your  vassal. 
(Aside  to  Rodolpk. )     Rodolph,  hence  I  and  do 
As  I  directed  ;  and  by  his  best  speed 
And  readiest  means  let  Rosenberg  reply. 

Rodolpk.     Count  Siegendorf, 
I  take  my  leave.  [Eaii,  b. 


Scene  L]  werxer.  59 

Sieg.     TJlric,  this  man,  who  has  jnst  departed,  is 
One  of  those  strange  conipauious,  whom  I  fuiii 
Would  reason  witli  you  on. 

Ulric.     My  lord,  he  is 
Noble  by  birth,  of  one  of  the  first  houses 
In  Saxony. 

Sieg.     I  talk  not  of  his  birth, 
But  of  his  bearing.     Men  speak  lightly  of  him. 

Ulric.     So  they  will  do  of  most  men. 

Sieg.     If  I  must  be  plain. 
The  world  speaks  more  than  lightly  of  this  Rodolph  ; 
They  say  he  is  leagued  with  the  "  black  bauds"  who  still 
Ravage  the  frontier. 

Uliic.     And  will  you  believe 
The  world  ? 

Sieg.     In  this  case — yes. 

Ulric.     In  any  case, 
I  thought  you  knew  it  better  than  to  take 
An  accusation  for  a  sentence. 

Sieg.     Son  1 
I  understand  you  :  you  refer  to — but 
My  destiny  has  so  involved  about  me 
Her  spider  web,  that  I  can  only  flutter 
Like  the  poor  fly,  but  break  it  not.     Take  heed, 
Ulric:  you  have  seen  to  what  the  passions  led  me ; 
Twenty  long  years  of  misery  and  famine 
Quenched  them  not — twenty  thousand  more,  perchance, 
Heieafter,  for  even  here  in  moments  which 
Might  date  for  years,  did  anguish  make  the  dial,) 
May  not  obliterate  or  expiate 
The  madness  and  dishonor  of  an  instant. 
Ulric,  be  warned  by  a  father  ! — I  was  not 
By  mine,  and  you  behold  me  ! — 

Ulric.     I  behold 
The  prosperous  and  beloved  Siegendorf. 
Lord  of  a  prince's  appanage,  and  honored 
By  those  he  rules,  and  those  he  ranks  with. 

Sieg.     Ah  1 
Why  wilt  thou  call  me  prosperous,  while  I  fear 
For  thee  !     Beloved,  when  thou  lovest  me  not  ! 
All  hearts  but  one  may  beat  in  kindness  for  me— 
But  if  my  son's  is  cold  1 — 


60  WERXER.  [Act  IV. 

Uhic.     Who  dare  say  that  ? 

^Irg.     None  else  l)iit  I,  who  see  \t—fed  it — keener 
Than  would  your  adversary,  who  dared  say  so, 
Your  sabre  in  his  heart  ! 

Let's  chan<j:e  t!ie  theme.     I  wish  you  to  consider 
That  these  young  violent  nobles  of  high  name, 
But  dark  deeds,  (ay,  the  darkest,  if  all  rumor 
Reports  be  true,)  with  whom  thou  consortest 
Will  lead  thee— 

Ulric.     (Impalicntly.)     I'll  be  led  by  no  man. 

Sieg.     Nor 
Be  leader  of  such,  I  would  hope  :  at  once 
To  wean  thee  from  the  perils  of  thy  youth 
And  iiaughty  spirit,  I  have  thought  it  well 
That  thou  sliould'st  wed  the  lady  Ida — more, 
As  thou  appearest  To  love  her. 

Ulric.     I  have  sail 
I  will  obey  your  orders,  were  they  to 
Uuite  with  Hecate — can  a  son  say  more  ? 

Sieg.     He  says  too  much  iu  saying  this.     It  is  not 
The  nature  of  thine  age,  nor  of  thy  blood, 
Kor  of  thy  temperament,  to  talk  so  coolly, 
Or  act  so  carelessly,  in  that  which  is 
The  bloom  or  blight  of  all  men's  happiness. 
Some  strong  bias, 

Some  master-fiend  is  in  thy  service  to 
]\lisrule  thee  : 

And  makes  his  every  thought  subservient  ;  else 
Thoud'sl  say  at  once,  "  I  love  young  Ida,  and 
Will  wed  her,"  or,  "I  love  her  not,  and  all 
The  powers  of  earth  shall  never  make  me," — So 
Would  I  have  answered. 

Ulric.     Did  you  not  warn  me 
Against  your  own  example  ? 

Sieg.     Boyish  sophist  ! 
In  a  word,  do  you  love,  or  love  not,  Ida  ? 

Ulric.     What  matters  it,  if  I  am  ready  to 
Obey  you  iu  espousing  her? 

Sieg.     As  far 
As  you  feel,  nothing — but  all  life  for  her. 
She's  young — all  beautiful — adores  you — ia 
Endowed  with  qualities  to  give  happiness, 


SCEJTE  L]  WERNER.  61 

Such  as  rounds  common  life  into  a  dream 
Of  something  which  your  poets  cannot  paint, 
And  (if  it  were  not  wisdom  to  love  virtue) 
For  which  philosophy  ni  ght  barter  wisdom  ; 
And  giving  so  much  happiness,  deserves 
A  little  in  return.     I  would  not  have  her 
Break  her  heart  for  a  man  who  has  none  to  break. 
She  is — 

Ulric.     The  daughter  of  dead  Stralenheim,  your  foe : 
I'll  wed  her,  ne'ertheless  ;  though,  to  say  truth, 
Just  now  I  am  not  violently  transported 
In  favor  of  such  unions. 

Sieg.     But  she  loves  you. 

VLric.     And   I   love    her,   and    therefore  would    think 
twice. 

Sieg.     Alas  !     Love  never  did  so. 
But  you  consent  ? 

lUric     I  did  and  do. 

Sieg.     Then  fix  the  day. 

Vlric.     'Tis  usual, 
And,  certes,  courteous,  to  leave  that  to  the  lady. 

Sieg.     I  will  engage  for  her. 

Ulric.     So  will  not  I 
For  any  woman  ;  and  as  what  I  fix 
I  fain  would  see  unshaken,  when  she  gives 
Her  answer,  I'll  give  mine. 

Sirg.     But  'tis  your  office 
To  woo. 

Ulric.     Count,  'tis  a  marriage  of  your  making, 
So  be  it  of  your  wooing  ;  but  to  please  you, 
I  will  now  pay  my  duty  to  my  mother. 
With  whom,  you  know,  the  lady  Ida  is — 
What  would  you  have  ?     You  have  forbid  my  stirring 
For  manly  sports  beyond  the  castle  walls, 
And  I  obey  ;  you  bid  me  turn  a  chamberer, 
To  pick  up  gloves  and  fans,  and  knitting-needles, 
And  list  to  songs  and  tunes,  and  watch  for  smiles, 
And  smile  at  pretty  prattle,  and  look  into 
The  eyes  of  mincing  girls,  as  though  they  were 
The  stars  receding  early  to  our  wish 
Upon  the  dawn  of  a  world-winning  battle — 
What  can  a  son  or  man  do  more  ?  [Exit,  Ulric,  l. 


6^2  WERNER.  f  Act  Y 

Sieg.     Too  much  1 — 
Too  much  of  duty  and  too  little  love  I 
Doth  my  fatlier's  curse  descend 
Even  to  my  child  ?  or — oh  !  if  it  should  be  ! 
Spirit  of  Stralenheim,  dost  thou  walk  these  walls 
To  wither  me  and  mine  ? 
Thy  death  was  not  our  crime  ; 
And  to  atone  the  wrong  I  did  thee,  I  have 
Ta'en  thy  cliild,  and  cherished  her 
E'en  as  my  own. 

Yet  still  thou  seem'st  to  haunt  me.     Still  to  scare 
Peace  from  my  thoughts,  and  slumber  from  my  pillow : 
Some  mysterious  power  has  linked  our  fate  together, 
And  o'er  both  the  grave  must  close, 
Ere  memory  can  snap  the  fatal  chain 
That  binds  us.  [Exit. 

END    OF    ACT    IV. 


ACT    V. 

Scene  I. — A  large  and  magnificent  Gothic  Hall  in  the  Castle 
of  Siegendorf,  decorated  with  Trophies,  Banners,  and  Arms 
of  that  Fa  mill/. 

Enter     the     Countess    Josephine     Siegendorf    and    Ida 
Stralenheim. 

Jos.     Well,  Heaven  be  praised,  the  show  is  over  I 

Ida.     IIow  can  you  say  so?     Never  have  I  dreamt 
Of  aught  so  beautiful.     Tlie  flowers,  the  boughs, 
Tiie  banners,  and  the  nobles,  and  the  knights, 
Tlie  gems,  the  lobes,  the  plumes,  the  hapi)y  faces, 
And  the  celestial  hymns. 

Which  seemed  as  if  they  rather  came  from  heaven, 
Than  mounted  there.     The  world 
At  peace  1  and  all  at  peace  with  one  another  I 
Ob,  my  sweet  mother  !  \_Emhracing  Josephine. 

Jos.     My  beloved  child  ! 
For  such,  1  trust,  thou  shalt  be  shortly. 

Ida.     Oh  ! 
I  am  so  already.     Feel  how  my  heart  beats  I 


S;CENE  T.]  WERNER.  63 

Jos.     It  (Iocs,  my  love  ;  and  never  may  it  throb 
Witli  auglit  more  Ijitter  ! 

Ida.     Kever  shall  it  do  so  ! 
How  should  it  ?     What  should  make  us  grieve  ?     I  hate 
To  hear  of  sorrow  ;  how  can  we  be  sad, 
Who  love  each  other  so  entirely  ?     You, 
The  Count,  and  Ulric,  and  your  daughter,  Ida. 

Jos.     Poor  child  ! 

Ida.     Do  you  pity  me  ? 

Jos.     No  ;  but  I  envy  ! 
And  that  in  sorrow,  not  in  the  world's  sense 

Ida.     I'll  not  hear 
A  word  against  a  world  which  still  contains 
You  and  my  Ulric.     Did  you  ever  see 
Aught  like  him?     How  he  towered  amongst  them  all  I 
How  all  eyes  followed  him  !     The  flowers  fell  faster — 
Rained  from  each  lattice  at  his  feet,  methought. 
Than  before  all  the  rest. 

Jos.     You  will  spoil  him,  little  flatterer, 
If  he  should  liear  you.     Come,  come, 
Let  us  retire  ;  they  will  be  here  anon, 
Expectant  of  the  banquet. 

Ida.     Dear  mother,  I  am  with  you.  Exeunt,  l.  v.  e. 

Enter  Count  Siegexdorf,  in  full  dress,  from  the  solnnnity,  and 

LUDWIG,    R.  U.  E. 

Sieg.     (  ^its.)     Is  he  not  found  ? 

L^id.     (r.)     Strict  search  is  making  everywhere  ;  and  if 
The  man  be  in  Prague,  be  sure  he  will  be  found. 

Seig.     Where's  Ulric  ? 

Lud.     He  rode  round  the  other  way 
With  some  young  nobles  ;  but  he  left  them  soon  ; 
And,  if  I  err  not,  not  a  minute  since 
I  heard  his  excellency,  with  his  train, 
Gallop  o'er  the  west  drawbridge. 

Enter  Ulric,  splendidly  dressed,  r.  u.  e. 

Seig.     (To  Lud  wig.)     See  they  cease  not 
Their  cjuest  of  him  I  have  described. 

E.rit  Ludicig,  R.  u.  E. 
Oh  !  Ulric,  how  I  have  longed  for  thee  ! 

Vlric.     Your  wish  is  granted — 

Sieg.     {Rising.)     I  have  seen  the  murderer, 


64  WERXER.  [Act  T, 

TJlric.     Wliom  ?     Where  ? 

Skg.     Tlie  Hungarian  who  slew  Stralenheim. 

Uiric.     Yoii  dreaiu. 

Sieg.     I  live  !  and,  as  I  live,  I  saw  him — 
Ileard  him  !     He  dared  to  utter  even  my  name. 

Uliic.     What  name  ? 

Sicg.     Werner  !  Hwas  mine  1 

Ulric.     It  must  be  so 
No  more  :  forget  it. 

Sieg.     Never  !  never  !  all 
My  destinies  were  woven  in  that  name  : 
It  will  not  be  engraved  upon  my  tomb, 
But  it  may  lead  me  there. 

Ulric.     To  the  point — the  Hungarian  ! 

Sieg.     Listen  : — the   church  was  thronged  ;  the   hymn 
was  raised  ; 
"  Te  Deuni"  pealed  from  nations,  rather  than 
From  choirs,  in  one  great  cry  of  "  Heaven  be  praised," 
For  one  day's  peace,  after  thrice  ten  years  of  war  ; 
I  arose. 

With  all  the  nobles,  and  as  I  looked  down 
Along  the  lines  of  lifted  faces, — from 
Our  bannered  and  escutcheoned  gallery,  I 
Saw,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  (for  I  saw 
A  moment,  and  no  more,)  what  struck  me  sightless 
To  all  else — the  Hungarian's  face  ;  I  grew 
Sick  ;  and  when  I  recovered  from  the  mist 
Wiiich  curled  about  my  senses,  and  again 
Looked  down,  I  saw  him  not.     The  thanksgiving 
Was  over,  and  we  marched  back  in  procession. 

Ulric.     You  saw  him 
No  more,  then  ? 

Sieg.     I  looked  for  this  man  : 
But  still  I  saw  him  not  ;  but  in  his  stead— 
Ulric.     What  in  his  stead  ? 
Sieg.     My  eye  forever  fell 
P'pon  your  dancing  crest  :  the  loftiest, 
As  on  the  loftiest  and  the  loveliest  head 
It  rose  the  highest  of  the  stream  of  plumes, 
Which  overflowed  the  glittering  streets  of  Prague. 
Ulric.     What's  this  to  the  Hungarian  ? 
-Sieg-.     Much  ;  for  I 


Scene  I.]  werner,  65 

Had  almost  then  forgot  him  in  my  son, 

When  just  as  the  artillery  ceased,  and  paused 

The  music,  and  the  crowd  embraced,  in  lieu 

Of  shouting,  I  heard  in  a  deep,  low  voice. 

Distinct,  and  keener  far  upon  my  ear  ^ 

Than  the  late  cannon's  volume,  this  word — '"  Werner  J" 

Ulric.     Uttered  by — 

Sieg.     Him!     I  turned — and  saw — and  fell. 

[Brings  chair,  c.  aTid  siis. 

Ulric.     And  wherefore  ?     Were  you  seen  ? 

Sieg.     The  officious  care 
Of  those  around  me  dragged  me  from  the  spot, 
Seeing  my  faintness,  ignorant  of  the  cause  ; 
You,  too,  were  too  remote  in  the  procession 
(The  old  nobles  being  divided  from  their  children) 
To  aid  me. 

Ulric.     But  I'll  aid  you  now. 

Steg.     In  what? 

Ulric.     In  searching  for  this  man,  or — when   he's  found, 
What  shall  we  do  with  him  ? 

Sicg.     I  know  not  that. 

Ulric.     Then  wherefore  seek  ? 

Sieg.     Because  I  cannot  rest 
Till  he  is  found.     His  fate,  and  Stralenheim  s, 
And  ours,  seem  intertwisted  ;  nor  can  be 
Unravelled,  till — 

Enter  Eric. 

Eric.     A  stranger,  to  wait  on 
Your  excellency. 
Sieg.     Who? 
Eric.     He  gave  no  name. 
Sieg.     Admit  him,  ne'ertheless. 

Enter   Gabor,  preceded   by  Eric. — Exit   Eric,  r.  u.  e. 

Ah  I 

Gabor.     'Tis,  then,  Werner  ! 

Si^.     (Hmtghlily.)  The  same  you  knew,  sir,  by  that 

name  ;  aud  you  ? 
Gabor.     (Looking  round.)  I  recognise  you   both  :  father 
and  son, 
It  seems.     Count,  I  have  heard  that  you,  or  yours, 


66  WERNER.  [Act  Y. 

Have  lately  been  in  searcli  of  me  :  I  am  here. 

Sieg.     1  have  sought  you,  and  have  found  you  :   you   arc 
charged, 
(Your  own  heart  may  inform  you  why,)  with  such 
A  crime  as —  ^He  jpauses. 

Gabor.     Give  it  utterance,  and  then 
I'll  meet  the  consequences. 

Sieg.     You  shall  do  so — 
Unless — 

Gabor.     First,  who  accuses  me  ? 

Sieg.     AH  things. 
If  not  all  men  :  the  universal  rumour — 
My  own  presence  on  the  spot — the  place — the  times— 
And  every  speck  of  circumstance  unite 
To  fix  the  blot  on  you. 

Gabor.     And  on  ?ne  only  ? 
Pause  ere  you  answer  :  Is  no  other  name, 
Save  mine,  stained  in  this  business  ? 

Sieg.     Trifling  villain  ! 
Who  play'st  with  thine  own  guilt  1     Of  all  that  breathe 
Thou  best  dost  know  the  innocence  of  him 
'Gainst  whom  thy  breath  would  blow   thy   bloody   slander. 
But  I  will  talk  no  further  with  a  wretch. 
Further  than  Justice  asks.     Answer  at  once, 
And  without  quibbling,  to  my  charge. 

Gabor.     'Tis  false  ! 

Sieg.     And  how  disprove  it  ? 

Gabor.     By 
The  presence  of  the  murderer 

Sieg.     Name  himl 

Gabor.     He 
May  have  more  names  than   one.     Your  lordship  had  so 
Once  on  a  time. 

Sieg.    If  you  mean  me,  I  dare 
Your  utmost. 

Gabor.     You  may  do  so,  and  in  safety  ; 
I  know  the  assassin. 

Sieg.     Where  is  he  ? 

Gabor.     (Pointing  to  Ulric.)  Beside  you  ! 

\_Ulric   ruihes  forward    to   attack    Gabor ^    Sieg- 
endorf  interposes. 

Sieg.     Liar  and  fiend  !    but  you  shall  not  be  slain  ; 


Scene  I.]  wernek.  67 

These  walls  are  mine,  and  you  are  safe  within  them. 

[//e  I  urns  to  JJlric 
Ulric,  repel  this  calumny,  as  I 
Will  do.     I  avow,  it  is  a  growth  so  monstrous, 
I  could  not  deem  it  earth-born  :  but  be  calm  ; 
It  will  refute  itself.     But  touch  him  not. 

[  Ulric  endeavours  to  compose  himself. 
Gnbor.     Look  at  him,  count,  and  then  hear  me. 
Sieg.     (First  to   Gabor,  and  then  looking  to  Iric)    I  hear 
thee. 
Great  Heaven  !  you  look — 
Ulric.     IIow  ? 

Sieg.     As  on  that  dread  night 
When  we  met  in  the  garden. 

Ulric.     {Composes  himself.)     It  is  nothing. 
Gabor.     Count,  you  are  bound  to  hear  me.     I  came  hith- 
.  er. 
Not  seeking  you,  but  sought. 
Sieg.     Go  on,  sir. 
Gabor.     Ere  I  do  so. 
Allow  me  to  inquire  who  profited 
By  Stralenheim's  death  ?     Was't  I  ? — as  poor  as  ever  ? 
And  poorer  by  suspicion  on  my  name, 
I  speak  to  you.  Count  Siegendorf,  because 
I  know  you  innocent,  and  deem  you  just. 
But  ere  I  can  proceed  : — Dare  you  protect  me  ? 
Dare  you  command  me  ? 

[  Siegendorf  first  looks  at  the  Hmigarian  and  then  at  Ul- 
ric, v:ho  has  unbuckled  his  sabre,  and  is  drawing  lines 
with  it  on  thejloor — still  in  its  sheath. 
Ulric.     (Looks  at  his  father,  and  says) — Let  the  man  go 

on  1 
Gabor.     I  am  unarmed,  count — bid  your  son  lay  down 
His  sabre. 

Ulnc.     (Casts  the  sabre  from  him  icith  contempt.)     It — or 
some 
Such  other  weapon,  in  my  hands — spared  yours 
Once. 

Gabor.     You  spared  me  for 
Your  own  especial  purpose — to  sustaia 
An  ignominy  not  my  own. 
Ulric.     Proceed : 


68  WERNER.  [Act  V 

The  tale  is  donbtless  worthy  the  relater. 

(To  Sugewlnrf.)  But  is  it  of  my  father  to  hear  further? 

Sleg.     ( Takes  Ul/ic  by  the  hand.)  My  son  !     I  know  D:y 
own  innocence — and  donbt  not 
Of  yours — buc  I  have  promised  this  man  patience  ; 
Let  him  continno. 

Gabor.     At  Frankfort  on  the  Oder,  it  was  my  chance 
To  hear  rehated  a  strange  circnmstance 
In  February  lust.     A  martial  force, 
Sent  by  the  state,  had,  after  a  strong  resistance, 
Secured  a  band  of  desperate  men, — banditti, 
Whom  either  accident  or  enterprise 
Had  carried  from  their  usual  haunt — the  forests 
Which  skirt  Bohemia, 
And  placed  b<^neath  the  civil  jurisdiction 
Of  the  free  town  of  Frankfort. 

jS'ifo-.     And  what  is  this  to  Ulric  ? 

Gabor.     Amongst  them  there  was  said  to  be  one  man 
Of  wonderful  endowments  :  birth  and  fortune, 
Youth,  strength,  and  beauty,  almost  superhuman, 
And  courage  as  unrivalled. 

TJlric.     (Smiling)     The  tale  sounds  well. 

Gabor.     And  may  sound  better. 
My  soul  was  rousd  with  various  feelings  to  seek  out  this 

prodigy. 
It  was  his  intention 
To  leave  the  city  privately — we  left  it 
Together — and  together  we  arrived 
In  the  poor  town  where  Werner  was  concealed, 
And  Stralenheim  was  succoured — now  we  are  on 
The  verge — dare  you  hear  further  ? 

Sicg.     I  must  do  so — 
Or  I  have  heard  too  much. 

Gabor.     Wiien  pursued  by  Stralenheim's  attendants 
On  the  false  charge  of  robbery,  you  concealed  me, 
In  secret  2)assages  known  to  yourself, 
You  said,  and  to  none  else.     At  dead  of  night, 
Weary  witli  watching  in  the  dark,  and  dubious 
Of  tracing  back  my  way — I  saw  a  glimmer, 
Through  distant  crannies,  of  a  twinkling  light. 
I  followed  it,  and  reached  a  door — a  secret 
Portal — which  opened  to  the  chamber,  where, 


Scene  L]  wernkr.  C9 

"With  cautious  hand  and  slow,  having  first  undone 
As  much  as  made  a  crevice  of  the  fastening, 
I  looked  througii,  and  beheld  a  purple  bed. 
And  on  it  Stralenheira  ! — 

Sieg.     Asleep  !     And  yet 
You  slew  him — Wretch  ? 

Gobor.     He  was  already  slain, 
And  bleeding  like  a  sacrifice.     My  own 
Blood  became  ice  I 

Sicg.     But  he  was  all  alone  ? 
You  saw  none  else  !     You  did  not  see  the — 

[He  pauses  from  agitation. 

Gahor.     No ; 
He,  whom  you  dare  not  name — nor  even  I 
Scarce  dare  to  recollect,  was  not  then  in 
The  chamber. 

Sieg.     ( To  Ulric.)     Then,  my   boy !   thou  art   guiltless 
still— 
Thou  bad'st  me  say  I  was  so  once — Oh  !  now 
Do  thou  as  much  ! 

Gabor.     Be  patient !  I  can  not 
Recede  now,  though  it  shake  the  very  walls 
Which  frown  above  us.     You  remember,  or 
If  not,  your  son  does, — that  the  locks  were  changed 
Beneath  his  chief  inspection — on  the  morn 
Which  led  to  this  same  night :  how  he  had  entered, 
Ho  best  knows — but  within  an  antechamber, 
The  door  of  which  was  half  ajar — I  saw 
A  man,  who  washed  his  bloody  hands,  and  oft 
With  stern  and  anxious  glance  gazed  back  upon 
Tlie  bleeding  body — but  it  moved  no  more. 

Sieg.     Tliis  is  so — 

Gabor.     I  beheld  his  features 
As  I  see  yours — behold  them  in  Count  Ulric's  ? 

Sieg.     Oh,  God  of  fathers  ! 

Gabor.     I  turned,  and  fled — i'  the  dark  :    Chance  rather 
than 
Skill  made  me  gain  the  secret  door  of  the  hall. 
AVell  1     I  fled  and  hid  me— 
Chance  led  me  here  after  so  many  moons — 
And  showed  me  Werner  in  Count  Siegendorf ! 
You  sought  me,  and  have  found  me — now  you  know 


TO  WERNER.  [Act  Y. 

[My  Fcoret,  and  may  weigh  its  worth. 

Si-'ff.     (After  a  pause.)     Are  you  a  father? 

Gahnr.     'So. 

Sieg.     Ah  I  then  you  cannot  feel  for   misery   like   mine. 

[Sits. 

Gahor.     i\Iark  me. 
When  yon  were  poor,  and  I,  though  poor, 
Rich  enough  to  relieve  such  poverty 
As  might  have  envied  mine,  I  offered  you 
jNIy  purse — you  would  not  share  it : — I'll  be  franker 
With  you  ;  you  are  wealthy,  noble,  trusted  by 
The  Imperial  powers — You  understand  me  ? 

Si-'g.     Dare  you  await  the  event  of  a  few  minutes' 
Deliberation  ? 

Gabor.     ( Casts   his  eyes  on  Vlric,  iv/to  is  leaning   against 
a  pillar.)     If  I  should  do  so  ? 

Sieg.     I  pledge  my  life  for  yours.     Withdraw  into 
This  tower.  \_Opms  a  turret-door. 

Gabor.     I  did  not  enter  Prague  alone — and  should  I 
Be  put  to  rest  with  Straleuheim — there  are 
Some  tongues  without  will  wag  in  my  behalf. 
Be  brief  in  your  decision  ! 

igieg.     I  will  be  so. — 
ISIy  word  is  sacred  and  irrevocable 
Within  these  walls,  but  it  extends  no  further. 

Gabor.     I'll  take  it  for  so  much. 

Siig.     (Points  to  Ulrics  sabre,  still  upon  the  ground.)  Take 
also  that — 
I  saw  you  eye  it  eagerly,  and  him 
Distrustfully. 

Gabor.     (Takes  up  the  sabre.)     I  will  ;  and  so  provide 
To  sell  mv  life — not  cheaply. 

[Gabor goes  into   the   turret,  which    Sicgendarf  ck*jes. 

Sieg.     (Advances  to  Vlric.)     ISow,  Count  Ulric  ! 
For  son  I  dare  not  call  thee — what  say'st  thou? 

Ulric.     His  tale  is  true  ? 

Sizg.     True,  monster  ! 

Vlric.     Most  true,  father  ; 
And  you  did  well  to  listen  to  it :  what 
We  know,  we  can  provide  against.     He  must 
Be  silenced. 

Sieg.     How  ? 


Scene  I.]  werner.  71 

TJlric.     As  Stralcnlieim  if.     Are  yon  so  dull 
As  never  to  have  liit  on  this  before  ? 
When  we  met  in  the  garden,  what  except 
Discovery  in  the  act  could  make  me  know 
His  death  ?     Or  had  the  prince's  househohl  been 
Then  summoned,  would  the  cry  for  the  police 
Been  left  to  such  a  stranger  ?     Or  should  I 
have  loitered  on  the  way  ?     Or  could  you,  Werner, 
The  oject  of  the  Baron's  hate  and  fears, 
Have  fled — unless  by  many  an  hour  before 
Suspicion  woke  ?     I  sought  and  fathomed  you^ 
Doubting  if  you  were  false  or  feeble  ;  I 
Perceived  you  were  the  latter  ;  and  yet,  so 
Confiding  have  I  found  you,  that  I  doubted 
At  times  your  weakness. 

Sieg.     Parricide  !  no  less 
Than  common  stabber  !     What  deed  of  my  life, 
Or  thought  of  mine,  could  make  you  deem  me  fit 
For  your  accomplice  ? 

Ulric.     This  is  mere  insanity  ! 

Sieg.     Perhaps  so — but  who  hath  made  me  mad? 

Utric.     Be  calm  !  be  calm  ! 

Sicg.     Calm  !     Oii,  thou  eternal  power  1  can'st  thou 
Continue  so  with  suc!i  a  world  ? 

TJlric.     Father,  do  not  rise 
The  devil  you  cannot  lay,  between  us.     This 
Is  time  for  union  and  for  action,  not 
For  family  disputes. 

Sicg.     Oh  !  my  dead  father's  curse  !  'tis  working  now. 

TJlric.     Let  it  work  on  !  the  grave  will  kiep  it  down  1 
Ashes  are  feeble  foes  :  it  is  more  easy 
To  baffle  such,  than  countermine  a  mole, 
Which  winds  its  blind  but  living  path  beneath  you. 
Yet  hear  me  still.     If  you  condemn  me,  yet 
Remember  who  hath  taught  me  once  too  often 
To  listen  to  him  !     Who  proclaimed  to  me 
That  there  were  crimes  made  venial  by  the  occasion '{ 
That  passion  was  our  nature  ?  that  the  goods 
Of  heaven  waited  on  the  goods  of  fortune  ? 
Wlio  deprived  me  of 
All  power  to  vindicate  myself  and  race 
In  open  day  ?     By  his  disgrace  which  stamped 


T2  WERNER.  [Act  V. 

fit  miprht  be)  bastardy  on  me,  and  on 

Hiiiiseir  a /doll's  braud  ! 

We  Iiavc  done 

'With  riglit  and  wrong  ;  and  now  mnst  only  ponder 

Upon  c'ti't;cts,  not  causes.     Stralenlieini, 

Wliose  life  I  saved  from  impulse,  as,  unknown, 

I  would  have  saved  a  peasant's  or  a  dog's,  I  slew, 

Known  as  our  foe — but  not  from  vengeance.     He 

Was  a  rock  in  our  way  which  I  cut  through. — 

He,  you,  and  I,  stood  o'er  a  gulf,  wherein 

I  have  plunged  your  enemy.     You  kindled  first 

Tite  torch — you  showed  the  path  ;  now  trace  me  that 

or  safety — or  let  me  ! 

Sieg.     I  have  done  with  life  ! 

Ulric.     Let  us  have  done  with  that  which  cankers  life 

Familiar  feuds  and  vain  recriminations 

Of  tilings  which  cannoi  be  undone.     We  have 

Ko  more  to  lenrn  or  hide  :  I  know  no  fear, 

And  have  within  these  very  walls  men  whom 

(Although  you  know  them  notj  dare  venture  all  things. 

Yoi  stand  high  with  the  state  ;  what  passes  here 

Will  not  e.xcite  her  too  great  curiosity  ; 

Keep  your  own  secret,  keep  a  steady  eye, 

Stir  not,  and  speak  not  ; — leave  the  rest  to  me  : 

We  must  have  no  tkird  babblers  thrust  between  ns. 

[Exii  Ulric. 

Sicg.     Am  I  awake  ?  are  these  my  father's  halls  ? 
And  you — my  son  ?     My  son  !  mine  I  who  have  ever 
Abhorred  both  mystery  and  blood,  and  yet 
Am  plunged  into  the  deepest  hell  of  both  I 
jVIy  heart  is  broke  !     Its  last,  its  dearest  hope 
Tlie  son  I  doated  on,  a  man  of  blood  ! 
I  must  be  speedy,  or  more  will  be  shed — 
The  Hungarian's — Ulric — he  hath  partisans, 
It  seems  :  I  might  have  guessed  as  much.     Oh,  fool  1 
Kow  then  !  or  once  more 
To  be  the  father  of  fresh  crimes — no  less 
Than  of  the  criminal  1     Ho  !  Gabor  !  Gabor  I 

Enter  Gabor,  r. 

Gahor.    Who  calls  ? 

Sieg.    I — Siegndorf !    Take  these,  and  fly  I 


Scene  I.]  werner.  ^3 

Lose  not  a  moment  ! 

[  Tears  off  a  dinviond  star  and  other  jewels,  and  thrusts 
them  iutn  G aborts  hand. 

Guhnr.     AVlmt  um  I  to  do 
With  these  ? 

Sieg.     Whate'er  you  will  :  sell  them,  or  hoard, 
And  jjrosper  ;  but  delay  not— or  you  are  lost  ! 

Gubor.     You  pledged  your  honor  for  my  safety 

&kg.     And 
Must  thus  redeem  it.     Fly  I  I  am  not  master, 
It  seems,  of  my  own  castle — of  my  own 
Retainers — nay,  even  of  these  very  walls, 
Or  1  would  bid  them  fall  and  crush  me  !     Fly  I 
Or  you  will  be  slain  by — 

Gubor.     Is  it  eveu  so  ? 
Farewell,  then  !     Recollect,  however,  count, 
You  sought  this  fatal  interview  I 

Sieg.     I  did  : 
Let  it  not  be  more  fatal  still ! — Begone  ! 

Gabor.     By  the  same  path  I  entered  ? 

Sieg.     Ko — by  the  postern  ;  that's  safe  still : 
But  loiter  not  in  Prague  ;  you  do  not  know 
With  whom  you  have  to  deal. 

Gabor.     I  know  too  well — 
Unhappy  sire  1 

Sieg.     Speak  not  ! — Begone  I  lExit  Gabor. 

(Listening.)     He  hath  cleared  the  staircase.     Ah  1  I  hear 
Tlie  door  sound  loud  behiud  him  !     He  is  safe ! 
Safe  ! — Oh,  my  father's  spirit ! — I  am  faiut. — 

[JIc    l&ms   down  vpon  a  stone  seat,  near  the   wall  of  the 
tower,  in  a  drooping  posture. 

Enter  TJlric,  with  others   armed,  and  with   weapons   drawn. 

Ulric.     Despatch  ! — he's  there  ! 
Ludtvig.     The  count,  my  lord  I 
TJlric.     (Recognising  Sieg.)     You  here,  sir  I 
Sieg.  Y'"es  ;  if  you  want  another  victim,  strike  I 
Ulric.     (  Seeing  him  stripped  of  his  jewels.)      Where  is  the 
ruffian  who  hath  plundered  you? 
Vassals,  despatch  in  search  of  him  1     Y''ou  see 
'Twas  as  I  said — the  wretch  hath  stripped  my  father 
Of  jewels  which  might  form  a  prince's  heirloom  I 


74  'WERNER.  [Act  V. 

Away  !  I'll  follow  you  forthwith. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Siegendorf  and  Ulric. 
What's  this  ? 
Wlierc  is  the  villain  ? 

Sieg.     Tiicre  are  two,  sir  ;  which 
Are  you  in  quest  of  ? 

Vlric.     Let  us  hear  no  more 
Of  this  ;  he  must  be  found. 
Did  he  escape  with  your  connivance? 

Sieg.     With 
My  fallest,  freest  aid. 

Vlric.     Then  fare  you  well  !  [  Ulric  is  going. 

Sieg.     Stop  !     I   command — entreat — implore  !      Oh  1 
Ulric  ! 
Will  you  then  leave  me  ? 

Ulric.     What  !  remain  to  be 
Denounced — dragged,  it  may  be,  in  chains  ;  and  all 
By  your  inherent  weakness,  half-humanity, 
S"lfish  remorse,  and  temporising  pity. 
That  sacrifices  your  whole  race  to  save 
A  wretch  to  profit  by  our  ruin  !     No,  count, 
Henceforth  yon  have  no  son  ! 

Sieg.     I  never  had  one  ; 
Aiid  would  you  ne'er  hud  borne  the  useless  name  I 
Wliere  will  you  go  ?     I  would  not  send  you  forth 
Witliout  protection. 

Ulric.     Leave  that  nnto  me. 
I  am  not  alone  ;  nor  merely  the  vain  heir 
Of  your  domains  ;  a  tlionsand,  ay,  ten  thousand 
Swords,  henrts,  and  hands,  are  mine. 

Sieg.     The  t'ore>.ters 
With  whom  the  Hungarian  found  you  first  at  Frankfort? 

Ulric.     Yes — men — who  are  worthy  of  the  name  1 

Sieg.     Now  open  wide,  my  sire,  thy  grave  1  thy  curse 
Hath  dug  it  deeper  for  thy  son  in  mine  ! 

Enter  Josephine  and  Ida. 

Jos.     What  is't  we  hear  ?     My  Siegendorf? 
Thank  heaven,  I  see  you  safe  ! 

Ida.     Dear  father  ! 

Sieg.     No,  no  ;  I  have  no  children  :  never  more 
Call  me  by  that  \vor:st  uame  of  parent. 


SCENK  I.]  WEBXEB  75 

Jos.   .  What 
Means  my  good  lord? 

Sieg.     That  you  have  given  birtb 
To  a  demon  ! 

Ida.     (  Taking   Ulricas  hand.)  Wlio  shall  dare  say  this  of 
Ulric  ? 

Sieg.     Ida,  beware  !  there's  blood  upon  that  hand  ! 

Ulric     Away  1  It  is  your  father's  !  \_Rushing  out. 

Enter  Gabor  and  Officers, 

Galor.     Officers,  behold  the  assassin  !     Seize  him  ! 
[Ida  foils  senseless — Josephine  stands  speechless  with  horror. 

Sieg.     The  race  of  Sicgendorf  is  past ! 
My  Josephine,  'tis  death  that  sinks  me  down  I 

Jos.     Ko  !  no  ! 

Sieg.     'Tis  death  !  and  from  the  son  I  loved  I 
Pray  for  him  !  for  our  son  !  pray  for  him  ! 
Oh,  that  my  dying  voice  might.     Help  me 
To  kneel  1    Forgive  !— Oh,  Ullric  I  Ulric  1  [Dies. 


THE   END. 


ri^ 


•/57/ 


3  1205  02042  0574 


T-   (-   •  ?r>r 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A  001  424  605  2 


